#he doesn’t deserve either of these two wonderful women

[bakugoushotwife]

Just Being Neighborly

a/n: y'all gone need the holy water for this one... it was a lovely writing challenge from the one the only @getosbigballsack so if you something with similar themes don't freak out lol. this was super fun and i definitely got carried away LMFAOOO

cw: shew let's see um, threesomes, mfm but the men are involved briefly, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, anal, dirty talk, pet names, slight dacryphilia, size kink maybe? doggy and reverse cowgirl. unedited as usual, i probably missed something im sorry

wc: please im so embarrassed it's 9k

They still remembered the day that you moved in. It was a sunny Tuesday in the middle of the summer, the gentle breeze flowing into their townhouse while they sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch playing Fifa. The sounds of car doors shutting and the roll of suitcase wheels on the concrete sidewalk got Satoru’s attention. He pauses the game, and Suguru groans. The lanky young man trips over himself to lean over his best friend and roommate on the couch, peering out of the window. 

“Stop being so nosy and I was beating you.” The other man sighed, moving his long dark hair to his other shoulder so his companion didn’t lay on it. 

Gojo huffs in defense of himself, keeping his bespectacled eyes trained outside. Finally he sees you. You walk back to the sleek Cadillac in the shortest yellow polka dotted sundress in existence, cute white pumps elongating your bare legs even more so. He was drooling and he hadn’t even seen your face. “There’s a babe moving in!” He rejoices, maybe a bit too loud through the open frame.

 Suguru leans over to pull his mouthy friend out of the window, but you too, piqued his interest. The dress was tight, hugging every curve and accentuating your large bust and wide hips. You don’t notice them watching, too busy pulling boxes out of the trunk and setting them on the sidewalk for you to carry in. Satoru wonders what you do for a living. These were expensive townhouses, the two college students only lived there on the account of him being a trust fund baby. 

The more built of the two shoved the other male off his lap, but the lanky man saved himself from falling to the floor. “We should go help her, she shouldn’t carry all that herself.” Suguru suggests like the sweetheart he is. Satoru hums mischievously at the idea. 

“What a great idea, I’m sure the babe will be relieved to have two strong young men living so close!” He grins, elbowing his partner-in-crime. 

“Y/N, are you done yet?” A foreign voice thunders, the sound of dress shoes clack back out to the car, grabbing their attention. Soon a man in a suit comes into view, folding his arms at you. 

You sigh softly and paint your smile on. “Almost, dear. This one’s a bit heavy.” 

“Well you packed it all in there, so whose fault is that?” Your husband chuckles, though he’s not kidding. Satoru Gojo’s nose scrunches up.

“Blegh, he’s an asshole.” He sneered. 

This time, Suguru Geto had to concede to his best friend, the way the man spoke to you was awful, and he was making you carry everything? Disgusting, “Agreed.” 

Satoru gently slapped the other’s chest. “Then let’s go help the babe.” He said excitedly, to which his friend chuckled and shook his head at his eagerness, though he can’t wait to introduce himself to you. The two get up from the couch and slip into their shoes, beginning their descent down the lavish stone steps. He feels a pang of guilt, you’re clearly in a relationship of some sort, but the feeling soon subsides when he remembers his treatment of you. Men like that don’t deserve women like you. 

As if his closest friend could read his mind, he elbows him in the ribs. He’s got a cunning smile on his face, and Geto knows that he doesn’t care about your relationship either. If there was one thing you could count on Satoru for, it was unabashed boldness. 

“I’m thinking we swoop in right, save this pretty damsel in distress.” He wiggles his eyebrows, pulling his glasses down his nose to give his friend a knowing look. He quickly pushes them back up, though Suguru knows that won’t be the last time his companion will pull that stunt. “Or at least offer our strong shoulders to cry on while we carry all her things.” 

Suguru sighed. “Be normal, please, for once.” He pleaded, dark eyes narrowing at the smirk decorating his face. 

Satoru rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Sometimes Suguru was so annoying, and absolutely zero fun. If he had to seduce you himself so be it, but he wouldn’t let Geto sweep in later if he didn’t help. “I am normal, you’re the weak one.” He giggled, sticking his tongue out and scooting down the rest of the steps, smiling brightly once the sun warmed his skin. They stood on the same sidewalk as you, shyly observing you unpack the car. You seem frustrated with one box in the trunk, perhaps the same one you mentioned to your…heathen earlier. 

Gojo smirks, sharing a glance with the ever-stoic Suguru once more. Hands in pockets of his black basketball shorts, he wears that brazen grin all the way to the Cadillac. Suguru walks slowly after him, eyes trained on the ground ahead of him. He would have to be the gentleman to make up for Satoru’s lack of shame. 

The lanky man clears his throat, the summer sun behind him enshrining him in an ethereal glow. You turn to the stranger, taken aback by his almost unnerving beauty. He hooks his glasses on his tight black tee, grinning teeth shining as white as his shaggy white locks.His gaze is the clearest blue you’ve ever seen, you can see the clouds from above you reflecting in his matching sky colored eyes. You arch your brow, unsure what to make of his approach. Just as he’s about to speak, a second man appears. He’s not quite as tall, but his shoulders are broader and features warmer. He smiles softly, black eyes carefully analyzing you. He folded his arms over his chest, abs clearly defined beneath the opaque wife beater. He jutted his chin out to your boxes, but it’s the first visitor that speaks. 

“We noticed you could use some help, miss.” He smiles, icy stare shamelessly raking over your figure. Your cheeks warm under his gaze–no, surely it’s just this summer heat. You’re happily married, moving into these lovely townhomes because of your newlywed husband’s success as a District Attorney. Maybe he wasn’t the most attentive husband–or even the nicest, but he was paying your way and you didn’t have to lift a finger. He did right by you, so you tell yourself. But you must admit, the two young men were right. There was no way you could get that damn box out of the trunk, much less carry it all upstairs to your new dwelling. 

“Oh, well, yes actually. Thank you…?” You say, arching a perfect brow at them. Gojo nearly let out a dreamy sigh, your face was just as perfect as the rest of you. Your brows were immaculately manicured, lashes full and framing enchanting doe eyes that looked at them so expectantly. You were so tempting it was hard for even Suguru to be respectful, sweat beading at your chest so deliciously he had to readjust the gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Satoru hummed, amused by the scene. 

“I’m Satoru, this is Suguru. We live here!” He shared as if it were a treat just for you. 

Suguru stifled a groan. “It’s always nice to welcome new neighbors. May we ask your name?” He asks, leaning forward slightly. You leaned against the bumper of your car, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. They were handsome and not much younger than you if you had to guess. They were certainly capable of helping you carry these last few boxes. There was no harm in introducing yourself. So why did you feel so guilty?

“Oh, I’m Y/N Robertson, it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve been struggling with this box for a while!” You chuckle nervously, patting the offending weight and stepping out of the way for one of them to grab. The white-haired man nodded, showing no signs of regret, repeating your name aloud.

“Y/N Robertson. Was that jerk your husband?” He asks, the permanent glimmer of amusement twinkling in his eye. 

You gasp softly and Suguru’s eyes widen. “I apologize about him, he has issues. I think he was born without a filter.” Suguru apologized, glaring at his counterpart. 

Jerk? Is that too far off the mark? It had been such a stressful move, you did mostly everything yourself, your husband working fourteen hour days and refusing to lift a finger when he was around. You were mostly embarrassed that these two had noticed his treatment, not wanting their pity. “He’s…he’s just been busy with work. But yes, he is my husband.” 

Satoru clicked his tongue, walking forward to effortlessly lift the burden you had been struggling with for the past twenty minutes. “That’s a shame, Y/N. A princess like you doesn’t need to be carrying something like this. But don’t worry, we got ya.” He winks. 

You avert your gaze to the other man, almost seeking solace in his peaceful presence. He’s wearing a faintly smug expression as he lifts the stack of boxes on the sidewalk. Suguru only nods his agreement. “Which one’s yours?” 

You think about it, pulling out your phone to look at the paperwork.. “I’m sorry, I forgot, I’m pulling it up…” You mutter, taking your lip between your teeth. The men share a look. You were adorable. 

“Take your time, we’re fine.” Suguru insisted, giving you another warm smile. It soothes your nerves only slightly and stokes the fire elsewhere. 

Gojo nods. “Yeah, we’re super strong. Don’t worry.” He says, admiring your manicured nails tapping away at the screen of your device.

 You allow yourself to giggle at this, you could tell they utilized the location’s gym facility a lot. Satoru’s black shirt hugged him tightly, swells of his biceps bulging against the hems. He grins at the gift of your laughter, smirking at his friend. Suguru chuckled through his nose, shaking his head at how easily his roommate flustered you. You hiss in celebration.

“Yes! I found it, sorry. It looks like I’m in…408!” You say without realizing. Your innocent eyes blink up at the tall pillars that were your new neighbors and current assistants. Satoru looked like a kid in a candy shop, and Suguru smirked in silent celebration. 

“Right across the way from us. How divine.” Satoru chuckled, turning to make his way up the stairs with the weighty box. “It looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of us!” 

Suguru hummed. “I’m sure we’ll make great friends.” He said, slowly striding after the energetic man. You just padded behind them, watching Suguru’s back muscles glean with sweat, long hair swaying slightly as he trods along the steps. You felt ashamed, eyeing them this way, but it was hard to miss the way Satoru’s shirt rode up to reveal his own toned abdomen and white patch of hair leading to the shorts sliding down his slender hips. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, telling yourself it was just because of the growing wedge in your marriage. You just needed to escape their lingering gazes and deviant smugness. 

Later that evening, the men sat on the same couch that they discovered you on, deciding to play the long game. Your husband was a tool, you were practically in heat just from their eyes on you. It was clear he wasn’t giving you any of the things you really needed.

That was a year ago now, the two college boys are more than in your favor by now. You brought them a tupperware of muffins the very next day, and it kind of became your trademark. You took good care of them, bringing them dinner some nights and supposed “leftover” baked goods. They wondered if your husband even noticed that you started cooking for four. They found any and every excuse to visit you during your husband’s long workdays, often spending the entire afternoon with you. 

When they weren’t with you, they were thinking of you, talking to each other about what they would do when they could share you. They could hear everything through the thin walls, every fight you had, every tear you shed, every orgasm–though they could tell they were faked. It was painful, biding their time until they could make their move, just hoping that the moment presented itself soon. 

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait much longer. It was another regular day, the two were working on some household chores when a door–your door–slamming caught their attention, followed by crying and two voices screaming at each other. 

Satoru dropped the plate he was washing with wide eyes, scrambling for the peep hole. They’ve heard the arguments, but none of them had spilled into the hallway, or had been filled with such emotion on your end. This time it was your husband who cowered in front of you as you screamed and threw his things out of the home. 

“Cheating bastard! You cried, face reddened from all the stress, no doubt. Suguru turns the washing machine on and makes for the door too, fighting with Satoru to see. 

“Honey please–it was a one time—” 

“Oh don’t bother. She sent me everything! This is on the fucking news, you absolute ass!” You huff, shoving a suitcase into the hall. At that, Satoru scrambled to the couch, flipping on the television and pilfering through the channels until the news displayed the reason for such an argument. Even he was shocked, a cheating scandal for the ages. Suguru’s heart dropped as the reporter spoke:

“District Attorney Joel Robertson caught in a blazing hot scandal this evening. The other woman tells all! His secretary leaks the sex tapes–claiming this affair has been going on for years.”

“How could he cheat on her??” Satoru is puzzled, yet grateful. Your dumbass husband has finally given you a reason to leave. It was only a matter of guessing when you would bang on their door. 

Suguru sighs, he never wanted you to be hurt. He knows that Satoru isn’t necessarily thinking about it that way, though he can’t deny the twinge of excitement in the back of his mind. Your dollhouse of a marriage would be over, and he had the perfect idea for revenge. 

“Sex tapes, huh?” Suguru muttered, muscular body pressed into the door to watch your husband pick up all his things strewn about the hallway. He didn’t even look guilty, seemingly fine with your pained tears. You slammed the door in his face. 

“I never want to see you again! You’ll get papers soon!” You yelled from behind your door. Your husband rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah? Well good luck paying for a place like this with no job, you insufferable piece of work.Or finding anyone better than me.” ” He chuckled, the suitcase rolling down the marble hallway and your tears being heard loud and clear after Satoru clicks the TV off. 

“Sex tapes.” Satoru confirmed with the shake of his head. He realized how this had to be affecting you, pressing his face against Suguru’s to try and peek out of the peep hole for any movement within. “How horrible. The secretary’s an ugly anyway, they belong together.” He snorted.

Suguru side-eyed him. Satoru said every thought that crossed his mind, his friend was convinced, however it was hard to disagree with some of his wild statements. This was one of them. You were way out of your husband’s league. He treated you like garbage and then had the nerve to cheat after not even being able to please you? Disgusting. Vile. 

“Should we…?” Suguru poses aloud, not able to stand the sound of your cries much longer. 

Just as Satoru nods eagerly, your door flies open again. This time, you march right across the hallway, raising your pretty fist to knock on their door. Suguru’s lips part in surprise, but you hesitate to actually connect with the firm barrier between you and them. It was almost like the point of no return, the building tension that started the day you moved in would all come to a head if you crossed the threshold. 

You bit your lip, looking back at your entrance. Maybe you should just go back, you were just emotional and seeking out the only comfort you could think of, right?

Satoru flings the door open, not giving you the chance. You’re face to face with the two, realizing they probably saw everything. Your cheeks heat up, your raised hand slowly lowering to your side. You must look a mess, hair disheveled from the countless times you raked your hands through it, eyes red and puffy from crying, tear stains on your cheeks. You make a strangled sob noise, looking at them so sadly it pulls their heartstrings. 

Suguru steps forward, reaching for you. “We heard, we’re so sorry..” He says, and you can see his sympathy for you written in the warmth on his face. You put your hand in his, the feeling of human contact with someone who actually cared was almost enough to make you cry again. 

Satoru huffs, leaning against the doorframe. You’re almost caged between them, feeling their body heat radiating off. His face is embossed with displeasure, eyes darkened in the same way the sky does before a storm. “He’s a piece of shit. Doesn’t deserve someone like you anyway, sweetness.” He says with a look of disgust, shaking his head. 

Suguru covers your hand with his other one, dark eyes bouncing between yours, like he’s trying to figure out what you were thinking. Truthfully, you were embarrassed more than anything. It was one thing to be in a loveless marriage, it was another for that fact to be known across town thanks to your husband’s low morals and high notoriety. You would be a laughing stock. 

“I’m just…embarrassed! I’ll be known around town as his poor wife. I hate that, I don’t want their pity or laughter…just so embarrassing.” You mutter, looking toward the ground. The sentiment makes Satoru pout. Oh how he just wanted to comfort you, for Suguru to lead you into the apartment where you would stay with them forever. 

Suguru frowns. He could tell your tears weren’t for your broken heart, but your devastation. Your reputation on the line, betrayed by a man who had never treasured you. He glances at Satoru, who’s just staring at you with such longing the dark-haired man can’t take it. “We can help you embarrass him, if you’d like.” 

His eyes widen. The words fell from his lips before he could think the better of it, but now you’re looking at him with those pouty doe eyes in confusion, and Satoru has to save the day, picking up your other hand. 

“Yeah, he’s right. We’ve been listening to you fake orgasms for a year now. Dude has some nerve makin’ tapes like he knows what he’s doing. We could really show him.” Satoru chuckles, leaning down from the door frame. You can smell his cologne, something minty with almost a hint of chocolate. He does know what he’s doing, invading your senses like this. His warm body and gorgeous eyes that have been undressing you since the day that you moved in paired with his scent and touch was overwhelming in the best way. Especially with the firm but comforting grip that Suguru kept. His hands were calloused from hard work, cradling the softness of your hand like a newborn. He leans closer too, waiting for some sort of response from you. His dark hair fell in layers around his face, accentuating his strong jaw and cheekbones, pale pink lips smiling softly. He smells of bourbon and cinnamon and some sort of expensive shampoo, the two of them so different and beautiful in their own ways–and both wanting you. 

“What did you..have in mind?” You squeak, your neighbors and acquaintances grin at each other. You didn’t even question their eavesdropping, knowing that they’ve been craving you since that summer sunny day. 

Satoru hums in pretend thought. This was only for show, they had determined what they wanted to do moments ago when they shared that glance. “Make a sex tape of your own, with men that can actually make you cum.” He let a laugh out through his nose. 

Your eyes widen, you open your mouth to speak but find that you don’t know what to say. Have you had a few wet dreams about a moment like this? Maybe, but that didn’t take the surprise out of their reciprocal desire. You looked to Suguru to search for any hint of his friend teasing you, but the man only squeezed your hand and smiled smugly. He could sense your doubt, and it was precious. 

“He’s not joking. We’d love to help you get revenge, dear.” He doubled down, the air around you growing heavy and charged with an energy that made your stomach drop, butterflies replacing your insides. Satoru steps out of your way, and Suguru angles his body the same way. You can pass right between them and enter their townhouse. You nibble your bottom lip, a nervous habit they had picked up on. “No worries, though, if you don’t. We’re here for you irregardless.” Suguru adds on the end, not wanting you to think you must. They wanted you to want to. 

And Satoru sure hopes you do, his gray sweatpants growing tighter at the thought of having you today, and under such circumstances! They hadn’t considered making films with you when discussing their fantasies, but he was definitely down with the idea. He smiles and nods, taking his lip between his teeth to mirror your nerves, but his was anticipation.

Suguru is highly perceptive, he’s hoping you say yes if only for his best friend’s sake. You wrack your brain, you should say no. There’s no way that this can end well, but your desire has piqued. They were right, your husband was horrible at sex, and you’ve been wondering what Satoru’s slender hands would feel like on your body, thinking about Suguru’s sweet smile pressed into your skin instead. Your stomach tingles at the thought, and you know what you want. You want to give in to your desire, you want to be with the men that had actually taken care of you for close to a year, and you wanted your soon to be ex-husband to see how good they could make you feel. 

You take a deep breath and squeeze through their bodies to enter their home. It was clean, like always. They tried to be better about that when you started eating dinner with them. You set your phone down on the table, taking a seat on their couch to blink at them expectantly. 

They shared another look, but this one was one of surprise. There you were, in their house waiting for them to fuck you. They had dreamed of this, and now it was happening. Gojo wastes no time, smirking and coming back inside, pulling Suguru in with him and shutting the door. You don’t miss the sound of the lock clicking, though it made you giggle at his eagerness. He takes his shirt off to avoid having to do it later, and you bite down on your lip again. Though this time it’s because he’s incredibly sculpted, as lean as he is. 

His skin is pale and scarred, you wonder from what, but it only added to his beauty. Every muscle was defined, down to his v-line. You can’t help but notice the ache in his pants, and you nearly sigh dreamily. It’s almost embarrassing how your core throbs, and this was just one of the two. Suguru picks Satoru’s shirt up off the floor, setting it on the coffee table instead. He takes a seat on the couch next to you, and you fight the urge to request his shirt be removed as well. You smile shyly at him, and he chuckles, reaching his hand out to hold your chin. “We’re gonna take good care of you, baby.” He insists, thumbing at your bottom lip. 

Your eyes stare up at him expectantly, taking in the lustful gaze he finally reveals. His dark eyes become half-lidded and focused on your pout. “Can I kiss you sweet girl?” He asks, sharp brow arched. 

You nod eagerly, feeling the cushion on your other side dip with the weight of the other male. He must have set up the camera, surely he wouldn’t allow Suguru to beat him to the punch. Much to your surprise, he only sets his hand on your hip, leaning forward for a better view of his best friend’s mouth covering yours. Geto’s lips are rough like his hands, in a good way. His tongue is warm as it laps over yours, his large hand still holding your jaw. You can feel Satoru’s hands knead at your thighs, but he’s not protesting. He doesn’t even protest when Suguru’s other large hand slips under your ass to pull you up into his lap. He just scoots closer to keep you sandwiched between hard bodies. 

“Yeah this is hot.” Satoru groans, palming himself over his pants when Suguru gently hikes your skirt up so he can access more skin, his thick fingers digging into your doughy flesh. You could feel his lips curl into a smile at his friend’s encouragement, kissing you harder. Your senses were overwhelmed, though you expected and wanted that. He tasted so good, letting your tongue dominate his just for the enjoyment. He nearly chuckles at your eagerness, it seems their desire wasn’t one sided. Your hands tug at his shirt, so he lets you catch your breath so he can yank it off.  “Ah, you gotta match us, angel.” Satoru grins, nimble fingers playing with the hem of your tank top. 

You blush, knowing you have no bra beneath. It was still too hot to wear layers, though your body felt like it was at the highest temperature it had been in a while. You’re so pretty, Suguru thinks, watching you peel your tank top off, bare chest to them. Your tits were perfect, nipples hardening before their very eyes. Satoru groaned, reaching to cup one of your breasts. Suguru’s lips latch onto your neck, his hands still kneading at your thighs. You can feel your cunt dampen as Satoru dives forward, sucking your pebbled bud in between his teeth. You gasp softly at the sensation, Suguru’s eyes open, watching his roommate fondle your tits and feeling you writhe in his lap only made his hardness nestle into your side, making you gasp again. Both of them were going to be huge, and you didn’t know how you would be able to handle it. 

Suguru snaps you out of your thoughts, rotating you in his lap just a little. Your back was flush against his chest, the skin almost burning where you connected. His muscles made you feel like you were sitting against a wall. If not for his warmth and the bulge settled in between your asscheeks, you may have thought you were. Satoru hums, pleased with having more access to you, his tongue swirling your sensitive bud. His fingers pinch the other, the slight pain sending shockwaves through your body, causing you to arch into his mouth. 

Geto chuckles, his hands still stroking gentle paths from your thighs to your hips, where nothing but your skirt stopped him. He arched his brow, jerking the fabric to sit around your waist. “No panties either, sweet girl?”

Satoru pulled away from your chest at this, a thin string of saliva stringing from his plump pink lips to your breast. “Oh dollface, I’m beginning to think you got ready for us.” He chuckles, the sound bright and bubbly as he scoots back on the couch to gaze at your newly revealed pussy. Your head spins from the way they look at you, like you’re a precious jewel. You feel drunk on the mix of their touches, where one was sweet and warm the other was rougher and icy. Suguru continues to press sporadic kisses to your neck and shoulders, trying to find your sweet spots. You whine so darling when he finds them, he can’t help but smirk to his best friend as your eyes flutter shut from the simple pleasure of him kissing your neck and the white-haired boy’s grip on your knees to spread your legs. He groans at the sight of your slick cunt, nodding to Geto. 

“She’s soakin’ Sugu. Hope you don’t mind but I gotta taste.” He hummed, his svelte fingers spread your lips apart and you shiver from the cold air being blown on your center. Satoru giggles, you were so cute like this, wiggling on Suguru’s lap and craving more of them by the second. 

Suguru nodded his permission, obsidian eyes locked on his friend’s sapphire ones. He thought the boy’s excitement was adorable, and yearned to watch the enjoyment of both of you. The lanky boy cooed his happiness and leaned forward to lick a fat stripe down your center, moaning at the taste. Your head fell back on Geto’s shoulder, hand flying to tangle up in white tresses. He giggles again, relishing the way your body responds to him. He does it again, humming at the intense lust in Suguru’s eyes and your sweet gasp. 

“Stop playing.” Suguru warned, biting marks into your skin to give you some pressure and pleasure since his counterpart wanted to toy with you. 

Gojo pouted, but you nodded your head in agreement. “No fun.” He huffed, but dipped his head down to your core for the count this time. You didn’t want him to tease? Fine. He won’t. But just remember that you asked for it. His tongue plunges in your weeping hole, his fingers assisting him in drawing circles around your clit. You moan softly, body jolting at the sudden intensity. Your hips rolled, fucking yourself on the muscle. 

Suguru hums at the sight, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from moving too much. It was clear your ex didn’t know how to treat you sexually, either. You feel his warm breath in your ear, Satoru’s fingers replacing his tongue, pushing his long fingers straight to your spongy spot. Your vision spots from that alone, not to mention his lips suckling your nerves. Suguru watches every move, impossibly turned on by the two of you together. 

“You’re so beautiful with his mouth on you like that, sweetheart. Do you like it?” He coos, collecting all your hair and brushing it over your shoulder so he could see all of your perfect face. You nod quickly, and Suguru chuckles, a deep rumble that you can feel in his chest against your back. He realizes that you’ve lost the ability to speak just from Satoru. It’s sweet, but he knows you’re in for one hell of a time. 

“You sure you can handle both of us, dear? I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He asks, eyes focused on the animalistic way Satoru devours you. His mouth was a mess of your arousal, tongue swiping his lips to keep your taste. 

You were already overwhelmed, but it was the best feeling of your life. You didn’t know how you would please both of them, but you knew you could. So you nod. 

“Use your words for me then, sweetheart. We’ll do the color system, m’kay? Green is all good, yellow for slow, red for stop, can you do that for us?” He says, running his fingers through your hair. Your eyes meet Satoru’s, who also seems to be waiting for a reply. You nod again. 

“Yes, ‘m fine, green all good.” You mutter, grinding your pussy against Satoru’s nose even though he was buried in your cunt. He sucks on your clit again, but it makes your stomach jump and your hips rock faster so they know you’re close to your first real orgasm in who knows how long. 

Geto hums his approval, tightening his hold on your waist. “You gonna make her cum for us, Sato?” He inquires, every touch flaming hot. Gojo nods, teeth scraping your bud and it’s all you need to topple over the edge. Suguru’s hands go back to your hips, your fingers tugging on the other boy who still lapped at your nectar. He hums his enjoyment, sitting back on his knees and winking at you. 

“You can pull my hair all night long, angel.” He says, watching your hole clench around nothing. How cute. He flickers his gaze to the man holding you upright, arousal nearly dripping off his tongue. “I think she needs a little break, you wanna taste?” He asks, which confuses you for a moment. How could he give you a break if they were going to swap?

Geto hums. “Of course I do. Come here.” He says, smirking at your bewildered gaze on them. Satoru grins and leans over you, planting his lips on the man who asked. You gasp softly, the sight more arousing than you’d like to admit. It wasn’t necessarily surprising, as they seemed pretty attracted to each other, you just felt ashamed for getting off on it. But you can’t help it, the way they hummed their satisfaction against each other’s mouths was melodic, Satoru opening his mouth for Suguru to utilize how he wants. The latter holds his jaw in similar fashion to the way he held yours earlier, controlling the space between them. He pulls back a little, mostly just to view your arousal covering Satoru’s bratty face and to look over at your awestruck features. He smirks at this, his tongue darting out as he brings Satoru’s face back to his, though they don’t kiss. Satoru whimpers as Suguru licks the sides of his mouth, cleaning all your natural honey off his best friend’s face. 

You gasp softly, not able to stop yourself, “That’s fuckin’ hot.” Satoru chuckles, his hand closing around Suguru’s wrist so he could turn his head in his grip. 

“I agree baby girl. He just had to taste you on my tongue.” He grinned, though that was the exact truth. The flavor of the two of you combined was driving him crazy. His dick throbbed painfully, and he didn’t know how much of this he could take. He releases Satoru in favor of fisting his hair. 

“Let me get her other hole ready.” He demands, and only Satoru knows what he means. The white-haired boy grins devilishly, sitting back on the other end of the couch. He wiggles out of his pants and tosses them over his shoulder, cock slapping his eight-pack. 

He looks at you with that same bare-naked stare he gave you the day you met, his smirk unfaltering. “Lean over and suck my cock, baby. He wants to see it and he's gotta get your ass ready.” He giggles softly, his large hand wrapping around his own length to keep it from aching. Your eyes flicker to the cock in question, aggravated red tip oozing pre-ejaculate down his prettily veined shaft, curving upwards to abuse every spongy spot. He was much bigger than your ex, you knew it would take some time to adjust. Nonetheless, you eagerly slip off of Suguru’s lap, getting on all fours. Suguru takes the opportunity to free his cock from his pants, sitting on his knees so he had a bird’s eye view of you crawling toward Satoru.

Gojo nearly vibrates with excitement, moving his hand away from his length so you could take over. He suddenly pouts when your pretty eyes look up at him, he’s realized he still hasn’t kissed you yet. “Oh no sugar, Can’t have you suck me off if I haven’t even been a gentleman.” 

He hums, sitting up so he could meet your lips. He was greedy with his kiss, lips hungrily moving over yours. You respond in kind, hand resting on the back of his neck where your fingers just brushed over the soft fuzz of his undercut. He moans softly, clearly enjoying the way you play with him. He pulls back with a loud smacking sound, resting his back against the arm of the couch once more, hands folded behind his head. Suguru rolls his eyes at Satoru’s showmanship, but he watches anyway.

“Much better, go ahead, hot stuff.” He coos, looking rather satisfied with himself. Your face is why, so drunk on his kiss that you sit back on your knees and hover over his tip, squealing in surprise as Suguru holds your waist. You can feel his length rubbing against your thighs, positioned under your cunt. His tip collides with your clit so perfectly when you rock back on him, your hips doing so automatically. You moan softly at the feeling, and Suguru hums as your arousal continues to drip around him. 

“I’m gonna fuck you while you give him head, sweetness, ‘s that good with you?” He asks, praying you say yes. He didn’t want to throw too much at you at once, but his dick was beginning to hurt. He sighs happily when you nod. You bite your lip, knowing you were about to feel unimaginably full. You turn your head to peek at his size, finding him not as long but nearly twice as girthy as the dick you hold in your hands. And you already needed two hands for Satoru. You sigh, Satoru’s slender fingers grabbing your chin to pull your focus back to him. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him angel, I got you soaked enough to take him.” He brags, squeezing your cheeks between his grip. He giggles at your smooshed face and hums, bringing your chin back down to his tip. You batted your eyelashes at him, watching his face carefully as you stick your tongue out and take him into your mouth. He groans at the relief of your warm insides, ego stroked when you gag just halfway down his length. He can feel himself in the back of your tight throat, eyes fluttering shut when you start to bob your head along him. Suguru smirks, enjoying the sight. He can see the muscles twitch in Satoru’s stomach and he can feel your pussy lips move on his dick leading him to believe you’re clenching around nothing. 

He can fix that. He palms your round ass, relishing the way you push yourself back into him while easing more and more of Satoru’s dick down your throat. It’s gorgeous, Gojo’s soft moans and the choking gags of you trying to take all of him. Your throat squeezes him perfectly, his hand coming down on the back of your neck to keep you there. He forces his eyes open, wanting to remember the way you look with his cock stuffed deep, tears rolling down your face. All three of you have forgotten about the camera, just performing for each other. Satoru can tell when Suguru plunges in by the way your eyes widen and you temporarily stop moving. Though you don’t have much a choice once Suguru starts rolling his hips against your asscheeks. The burn as he stretches you out is delicious, making you moan around Satoru. He moans in return, the vibration of your voice going straight to his balls. He can’t help but slightly buck into your warm mouth, Suguru’s slow thrusts giving you time to adjust. 

You clench around him and that sensation alone is so good he almost moans. Satoru wasn’t lying, he made sure you were absolutely drenched to make accommodating his friend’s size as easy as possible. Your walls were still so choking and spongy, he can feel a tingling sensation shoot down his spine. He watches you get used to him, your hips slightly wiggle back for him, and you resume bobbing along Satoru. It was hard to breathe with such a task at hand, you took deep breaths through your nose, but you still felt dizzy as Suguru picked up his pace. 

Satoru watched the pleasure wash over Geto’s face, the man’s eyes closing and mouth dropping open. It was so hot, especially with the way you squeezed around him. It was too much, he knew he wouldn’t last long like this. Your pretty face at his cock, burying your nose in his snow colored pubes paired with Geto’s soft grunts as he plows into you and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass was sending him hurtling towards the finish line and he didn’t want this to end yet. He didn’t want to shoot his load in your mouth—not this time anyway. 

Suguru settles into a regular pace, trying not to falter when you squeeze down on him like this. His thrusts are powerful, pushing you into Gojo’s trimmed bush with every rock of his hips. The men are rewarded with the sweet sound of your gags, to which they both cherish. He tries to be gentle as he gathers some spit on his fingers, tentatively sliding the spit around your tight ring while he keeps you drunk on dick. You mewl softly as his thick index slips in, both holes squeezing on him so fucking good he groans. Suddenly, there’s a rubber band ready to snap in your gut, making you gasp around the girth keeping you from speaking, as if you could do much of that anyway.

The man responsible hums, giving your ass a gentle smack. “Gonna cum for us again baby?” You nod along Satoru, and he beams with satisfaction. “Go ahead, get my dick nice and wet for me.” His words are so lewd that you can’t help but obey, gagging on Satoru as you try to cry out. The slender boy can’t handle it, biting down on his lip to avoid  the inevitable. 

“Sugu, not gonna make it like this..” Satoru says in a whiny tone, watching your ass ripple into Geto’s hips and your face contort in added bliss. Suguru peeked at his friend’s pouty face and chuckling at the blown pupils and flushed cheeks of the bratty male. 

“That’s fine bubs, we’ll change it up. I’m sure that throat needs a break.”  Suguru hummed, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He didn’t want anything obscuring his view of your perfect mounds. He lightly spanked the flesh, relishing your little squeal. He treasures his last few pumps of you, knowing he would give his whiny counterpart your sopping hole. Satoru releases your hair, smiling brightly at the sight of your ruined face. 

“Now those are some tears I can get behind, princess.” He coos, thumbing them off your pretty face. He brings your mouth back to his, not willing to give you any time to breathe. You’re gasping against his lips, but your hold on his shoulders begs him to come closer. Suguru continues prodding your hole, spitting on the second entrance of yours he’d be taking. He slips a second finger in, and you don’t complain. You sigh into Satoru’s mouth and tug at his hair, lips smacking against each other's messily. Geto loves watching this, his other hand stroking his aching erection. 

Satoru watches his friend, trying to sync his timing to his. He was only trying to keep you occupied so the other man could work your asshole, knowing it would be a big stretch, Satoru was content to make out with you until he comes untouched, but he knows Suguru won’t allow that to happen. He nods, now able to scissor his fingers in your hole. His strong hands grip your hips, pulling you from the white-haired man which earned a whine from you. 

“You’ll get Satoru back, beloved, don’t worry.” Suguru rasps, pulling you back into his lap, facing away from him as you did earlier, the only difference being your knees folded under you as if you were still in doggy. You felt a little guilty with his comment, not wanting to prefer one over the other. So you lay your head back on his shoulder, using two fingers on his jaw to turn his face close enough for you to push your lips on his. Satoru loves the sight, the two sexiest people he knows making out right in front of him! The only thing that could possibly make this better is what they’re planning on next. Gojo walks forward on his knees, once more caging you in. It’s his mouth you feel soothing the marks his friend left earlier, breaking new patches of skin to bruise of his own. 

Suguru’s hand cups your cheek, his kisses deliciously slow and sensual. He didn’t want his hard work to go to waste though, so he lifts you slightly, lining his cock up with your asshole. He breaks the sweet kiss, “You think you can take both of us, baby?” 

“Oh she can do it, poor girl needs it.” Satoru hums, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that right?” 

You nod. If you thought you were incapable of speaking earlier, then maybe you’ve never had good sex in your entire life. “Green, go for it..wan’ have both.” You whine, making Satoru light up. 

“You heard the lovely lady.” Satoru purrs, hands on your waist as a means to push you onto Suguru’s cock if he doesn't do it fast enough for his liking. Suguru just chuckles through his nose and shakes his head. 

“So impatient. Very well.” He hums, using his leverage on your hips to slide his tip past the squeezing ring of muscle. He grips your hips harder than he means to, undoubtedly leaving semi-permanent marks. It was impossible not to, he was trying to slowly inch his way in, but your ass was sucking him in so good he had to slowly shove the rest in. You let out a loud wanton moan, bordering scream. Satoru moaned from the sight and sound alone, his only touch being his hands on your waist. He was going to claim your cunt, no doubt, but he had to let you get accustomed to Suguru’s rod in your ass. 

He just lets you sit on it for a moment, partially for his own benefit. He had to get himself under control or he would bust immediately, and ruin everything for Satoru. And he would never hear the end of his mouth if he did. You feel so full, the pressure of him stretching everything open makes you see stars. You yearn for movement, for some relief on your throbbing clit, so you whine, watching Satoru’s face morph into surprise as you try to bounce on Suguru already. 

The man moans, the first one he’s let loose all evening. It’s deep and once again thunders against your back. You were better than the fantasies he had conjured in his head, and he was determined to give you the time of your life. So he aids you in your bounces, his rough hands supporting your weight and dragging you up and down his shaft at his own pace. It was still too good, the warmth and tightness choking down on him perfectly.

“Fuck her, Satoru.” Geto breathily demands, the gravelly tone of his voice sending a chill to both you and the man he ordered inside you. Satoru didn’t hesitate, his knees situated between Suguru’s. He lined up with your entrance, tugging you forward just a bit which must have deepened the long-haired man’s connection as you started moaning so lewdly Satoru wondered if he’d paint your walls just by pushing inside. He couldn’t watch your poor pussy clamp around nothing any longer though, bottoming out in you and holding your cheeks in one large hand. He enjoyed how your sounds changed, sounding warped due to your smooshed face. He smiled, your cunt tightening around him, meaning it got even tighter for Geto. 

“You heard the man, ‘m gonna fuck you angel. Let us know you’re okay.” He cooed, and even though his words were sweet he almost sounded like he was teasing you. 

You nod, eyes closed tight and nose scrunched at the sensation of two huge cocks stuffing you full. You thought your intestines must be forced to move to accommodate them, heavy breathing and soft grunts in your ears. “Good, so good.” 

Satoru nodded, kissing your forcibly puckered lips sweetly as he began to move inside you too. His eyes roll back for a moment, everything about this was perfect. Your silky walls pulsating around him, the feeling of Suguru’s cock rubbing against his only separated by a thin wall of tissue, the look on his lovers faces. He groans, tossing his head back as he fucks into you harder. He dreamed of a day like this, and now he could only pray this wasn’t a one time thing. He was already addicted to this, and by the looks of it so was Suguru. He hadn’t ever seen the man so relaxed, though he enjoyed it immensely. As if he could feel his stare, Geto opens his eyes to make contact with the man staring. He winked, a slight smirk. Your hips continued to buck, getting fucked no matter how you moved. Forward onto Satoru’s curved length abusing your pleasure spot or backwards onto Suguru’s impaling girth splitting you open. You feel that familiar sensation of fire building in your gut, your pants and moans getting closer together. The men look at each other, nodding breathlessly. They were close, like they had been since the moment they saw you undress. The feeling of your choking walls on both ends made it impossible to hold out any longer, though your body spasms tell them they won’t have to. Your grip on Satoru’s hair tightens, a wailing moan signifying your release as if the rush of cum surrounding Gojo wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna get both loads love, you want that?” Suguru grunts in your ear. 

You nod vigorously, head so empty you could only collapse against his chest, making him support the full weight of you. He didn’t mind at all, grinning ear to ear. He was hanging on by a thread, but it was his job to make sure everyone was happy. 

“You first Sato.” He groaned, clearly struggling. 

“With me.” The man pouted, the deal so sweet that Suguru couldn’t refuse. 

He nods, “With you.” He gulps, waiting for the tell-tale crinkle of Satoru’s nose to tell him when to release the burning coil in his gut. Satoru could tell that he was waiting for him, his thrusts to your cunt menacingly rough. It only takes a few more before his nose crinkles and mouth drops open, cock twitching inside you fucked out cunt. 

Suguru gasps softly, his hot load spurting off like an erupting volcano, quickly filling you up and forcing the rest to ooze out around him despite how well he plugged your hole. Satoru’s seed spills out into you like a dam had been holding him back, both sensations so warm and messy and delicious that you moan softly at just the feeling, head spinning as it falls back onto Geto’s shoulder with heavy breaths. 

Gojo slumps forward slightly, kissing your jaw with the most tenderness he had displayed all night. “I knew you could do it, hot stuff. That was fucking amazing.” He hums, fishing for an article of clothing to put under you. He finds Suguru’s shirt, and raises up enough to slide it under you with Geto’s help. They couldn’t have you staining the couch, now. Gojo slides out of you, leaving you on Suguru’s comfortable lap. The black haired man smiles at you sleepily, pushing some of your hair out of the way. 

“Yeah, it was, we hope you had a good time?” He hums as Satoru goes to stop  the recorder. 

You giggle and nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I guess it’s time to get cleaned up and back to my place, for as long as I still have it.” You chuckle dryly, your entire body was a pile of mush, and you couldn’t move if you tried. You just didn’t want to overstay your welcome or make your problems their responsibility, despite their eagerness to take care of you. 

Satoru comes back with three bottles of water and a sheepish look on his face, an oddity for him. “I may or may not have forgotten to press record.” He says with a slight grimace, handing out the waters as an apology. Your amusement is clear, and you wonder if he did it on purpose.

Suguru laughs, and he can’t figure out if it’s at you or Satoru. “Hm, what a predicament. You’re not going anywhere.” He squeezes your hips and lifts you off his length, setting you back in his lap regularly. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you don’t have to worry a hair on your pretty little head about your place. You can stay here.” He said matter of factly, his arm hangs possessively around your waist. 

Gojo hums. “We could use a sweet lady like you. We’ll make up for that year of faked orgasms.” He winks and takes a swig of water. They make a convincing argument, and with the way Satoru wipes the pearls of cum off your legs and the way Suguru carries you in his arms to start a shower, you have no doubt that they will take care of you.

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #stsg x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu smut #jjk x reader #kyleewritesjjk #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #suguru geto #jjk #mdni

[fuckmyskywalker]

🕯️🧺 w anakin? plz? 🥺❤️

Prompt: 🕯️ "You weren’t supposed to hear that.” | 🧺 Stepcest. — Anakin Skywalker.

CW: 18+, smut!. stepcest, dub-con/non-con (reader is drunk and under other substances, they don't explicitly say yes but they don't say no either so). Anakin is quite violent in here, and mean, and a bitch. Dirty talk, Oral sex (m), struggling with feelings, Anakin is an idiot tbh but he is my filthy, pervert idiot. | Word count: 2.9k (...somebody kill me.)

a/n: This is so disgustingly delicious I couldn't help myself, sorry. It was supposed to be a short drabble but ended up being almost 3k of pure filth.

His feet tap the rug of the living room anxiously; Anakin knows he should stay away from all this, lock himself in his bedroom, and jack off before bed. 

But as usual, his thoughts are even more complicated than that, he is caught between a situation that he isn’t sure has a positive outcome or even one for that matter. It’s the same conflict he has been going through ever since his wonderful mother had the great idea to marry your awesome dad who treated her as she deserved and welcomed Anakin as his son. But that wasn’t the problem.

It was you.

Anakin wanted you, so bad it burned his skin and chained his heart to a cold wall of self-restraint. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept repeating to himself every night he heard you in the adjacent room, moaning softly under your own caresses and all he could do was rub his uncomfortable erection to at least ease some of the yearning. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept whispering in the shower, closing his eyes to not see his hands squeezing your bottle of shampoo and consuming his sanity in the sweet scent of strawberry shortcake, relishing in the calmness your characteristic smell brings him. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept saying in the solitude of the obscure living room, waiting for you to come back from whatever fucking party you decided to sneak out that night.

It was easier to mask his desires and sinful lusts for you under a coat of anger. Always snapping at you, yelling, pushing you away. Anakin found that nasty attitude as an effective coping mechanism. For a while. You suddenly stopped talking to him, searching for his friendship or a simple common ground so you two could be in the same room without screaming and throwing insults at each other until either his mother or your father had to step in.

Neither of them tried to interfere unless things got heavily verbal and one time, physical. They both concluded it was only the edge of getting used to this new dynamic. You and Anakin just need more time to grow accustomed to each other’s presence, that’s it. Plus, Shmi didn’t feel entitled to scold you, and your father was never good at dealing with “women’s emotions”.

Deep down, Anakin was feeling guilty, and he, much like your father, wasn't good at dealing with others’ emotions, less alone his. He never tried to apologize either, which perhaps was why he was doing this. Aside from that repetitive statement of “this is wrong”, he tries to swallow his guilt and add to the mix a hint of “this is how I show my worry for her”. Which, if being brutally honest, was a pretty shitty way of doing so. Glancing at the digital clock on the fireplace, his anxious tapping gets stronger, it is almost 3:30 am. He hesitates, should he call you? Would you even pick up the phone? Should he just drop this whole act off and go to bed? Anakin feels too tired to even masturbate, or too angry, it doesn’t matter. The thoughts and “what ifs” begin to drown him, and if there is something that the unstable bastard is, is an overthinker. 

As luck would have it, his head snaps up when he hears the front door click open softly, followed by a muffled giggle. He stands up slowly, careful not to make a single noise. Are you alone? He hopes you are. The idea of seeing you with someone else twists his stomach with jealousy, quickly followed by that familiar wave of guilt. He has no right over you, that is a fact, and yet he forces himself to look over it, using the poor, sick excuse of being your stepbrother to worry about you; Even if his worry is translated into being a bitch, spying your every movement, and fucking his fist to the thought of you. 

He sees you stumbling through the front door, clicking the latch with what appears to be shaky fingers. Anakin remains silent as he scoots closer to you, resting on the frame of the arch that leads from the living room to the hallway that connects with the front door and the kitchen. You fail to notice his presence, too busy struggling to keep both feet on the floor as your heels hang from your right hand and your purse on your left. The tiniest bit of relief travels through his veins, at least you are alone. You walk past Anakin, but he doesn’t let you wander more than three steps. 

“Had a fun time? He asks in a sarcastic, dry tone. Cold blue eyes scan you up and down unashamedly, taking notice of how revealing and tight your outfit looks. 

With a loud gasp you turn around in a split second, your eyes widen and your mouth contorts into an expression of shock and drunken panic, Anakin predicts your scream and sprints towards you clasping a hand over your mouth and pushing you against the nearest wall. If he was upset before now he is fuming. “Shut the fuck up” He whispers against your face, his hot breath fanning over your nose. Up close Anakin notices how your eyes are droopy, puffy, and red. “If you wake them up I won’t save your ass”

You try to push him away but to no avail, Anakin is stronger than you, and your drunken state completely eats up your stability. Your head shakes side to side trying to remove his hand from your mouth but it only makes him push it harder until your lips begin to feel numb. “Where were you?” He asks, towering right in front of you in a frightening yet… arousing way. “And what the fuck is that outfit?” 

It’s rather ironic how your stepbrother keeps interrogating you but also takes away your ability to talk— You let go of your heels that fall to the wood floor with a muted sound, trying to push him away with your palm against his chest. 

Which apparently infuriates Anakin further. “Keep your hands off me, who knows where they’ve been” He hisses and slaps your hand away and pins it to your side with frustrated force.  “Were you with someone?” Anakin hisses, so close to your face you can see how deep his eyes are. You never recall they were such a pretty shade of blue. 

You shake your head at his last question, the only verbal indication you can give. His shoulders seem to relax the tiniest bit just to return to his usual tense shape. “Don’t fucking lie to me” He warns you and spits your name in a venomous way that should hurt your feelings and bring tears to your eyes. You shake your head again this time more desperately, this is the closest he had ever been to you ever since your father married his mother and it’s borderline scary. “You smell like a damn distillery, fucking disgusting” 

Instead of pushing him again, you raise your knee to hit his hip, your goal was his crotch but you missed by a lot. Anakin grunts in pain and lets go of your mouth for a second letting you take a heavy, desperate breath. Your body feels dizzy and sweaty and it’s all because of him. The altercation only lasts a few seconds and you don’t even reach the first stair before Anakin yanks your hair and slams your body back to a wall.

“Let go of me—” You whine with little conviction. “Get the fuck off Anakin I—” Your voice isn’t a plea, it’s an irritated complaint that makes you focus on everything else besides the burning ache that is beginning to form in between your legs at the tussle between your stepsibling. You expect his hand to clasp over your mouth again and the little self-consciousness left in your mind decides to bite his palm if he does so—

But instead, his lips crash over yours messily, punching all the air from your lungs. Your body reacts faster than your mind and the first thought that swirls in your hazed head is: His tongue tastes like heaven. Anakin quietly grunts at the strong flavor of liqueur and cheap cigarettes that fills his senses, pushing his hips forward basically rubbing his half-hard cock against your hip. Using his grip on your hair he yanks your head upwards so his lips can attack your jaw and neck, rapt in your heavy panting. Anakin’s knee finds a comfortable spot between your thighs, rubbing the sharp bone over against your needy core. Your body jolts slightly and you mewl into the cold air of the staircase hallway. You want to touch him, run your hands through his hair, cup his beautiful face, embrace this sick, prohibited feeling— but the emotional grip he was on you is doing its job. You can’t seem to find the strength to move a single muscle, melting into a wordless puddle for the person who you were supposed to hate.

Anakin’s knee picks up an acceptable pace forcing you to move your hips involuntarily to relieve some of the ache. You couldn’t remember when was the last time you were this wet, and even if you wanted to— it would’ve been impossible. He leaves wet, lewd kisses over your neck before sucking and biting your skin, ravishing you as if you were his prey, and perhaps you were. Anakin’s hand which isn’t gripping at your hair so hard your scalp is burning, squeezes your hip with the same brutal, appealing force. 

“You don’t have any idea how bad I want you” Anakin breathes against your neck, his voice lingering with that dangerous edge, mixed with what appears to be compassion, but not for you, for himself.— or even emotion. “You get under my damn skin, you make me lose my damn mind” His white teeth are like a threat, sinking into every inch of skin available, marking you. 

To care? You don’t have it in you. Probably not even if you were sober. Your mind struggles to come up with a reply, the ocean you are swimming in has everything except guilt, which was burning Anakin’s soul. “I know…” You whispered weakly, pushing your hips forwards and biting your lip to choke a moan at how good it felt to be humping your stepbrother’s knee. “I heard you jacking last month— you moaned my name” It was a miracle you could even build the sentence together, your voice was slurred and broken, but Anakin understood every word.

He curses under his breath, and the surprising sight of his flushed, red cheeks seems to break your drunk trance for a moment. Anakin hides his face in your shoulder, resting his forehead on the muscle. “You weren’t supposed to hear that” He mutters, it feels humiliating, but the simple act of unintentional humiliation makes his cock twitch inside his grey sweats. 

“I did”

“Shut up”

“I liked it”

Anakin’s head snaps upwards, meeting your half-lidded eyes. He wants to believe you. The doubt flies around his head: He is not used to having what he wants— Why would you be the exception? Is this his chance to be greedy and take the only thing he has been craving for months now? Is this how Eve felt when the Devil offered her the forbidden fruit? 

Are you his forbidden fruit?

Is this the way out from Eden?

It was too much. 

Lowering his knee he glares at your discontented groan, placing both hands on your shoulders and forcing you to kneel. The intention is clear, and it doesn’t take you long to pick it up. Your shaky hands fumble with the little bow on his swears but Anakin just pushes them away, muttering something about ‘how stupidly drunk you are you can’t even do something for yourself’. What is also not a surprise, is the lack of underwear— but what it is— is his cock. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it, completely hard right in front of your face. Swallowing, you allow him to guide the tip to your open, awaiting mouth. The first touch is like touching heaven, or hell— Your warm tongue swirls over the sensitive head tasting the salty precum, wondering what could you do to be able to savor him again. Anakin places his large hand on the back of your head fighting the urge to push you all the way in. He is trying to be nice, at least a little. Although, it seems like you have other plans; He is bigger than other guys you’ve seen, not massive but certainly above average. Perhaps big enough that you can see the outline on your lower stomach if he fucks you. Sliding a couple more inches inside your wet mouth you roll your eyes at the way Anakin’s breath hitches and how his hips push forwards the slightest bit.

The wonderful weight of his cock on your tongue is hypnotizing, and you waste no time bobbing your head back and forth, sliding a bit more of his cock after a couple of minutes. Raising your eyes, you find Anakin staring directly at you, his blue irises dilated and almost glowing in a predatory manner. 

His breathless chuckle catches you off guard. “You must be a slut if you suck cock this good.” It’s a double-edged compliment, either way, it feels good. You whine around his dick making him hiss in pleasure, biting his lower lip to keep the noises down. He can only imagine the catastrophic consequences if his mother (or your father) wakes up and finds his son’s cock buried in his stepsibling’s throat. “Fuck— I wish I could have you on your knees all day…” 

You try to nod at the idea, it sounds great— it fucking does. The struggle for air starts to hit you, and the lustful haze replaces the alcohol haze in your head and bloodstream— You are no longer drunk in cheap tequila, vodka, and whatever the fuck was in that igloo; no, you are drunk in his cock, his scent, his voice, in him. 

You decide to go big, because well, you already are home. Deepthroating him rewards you with a delightful moan, not loud enough to bounce over the walls of the first floor but enough for you to pick it up and moan as an aftereffect. Your throat contracts around his hard cock and Anakin is a dead man. The little restraint he had left breaks and the next thing you feel is your head banging against the wall to keep you in place as he fucks your face. His hips thrust on and on, your gags and chokes sobs only spurring him further. Your nails dig into his thighs and his balls graze against your chin with every frantic snap. Anakin is painting, sweating, sinning. 

If this was the forbidden fruit, could he blame Eve at all? 

Your tears, your smeared makeup, the drool that trickles down your chin is like a work of art. Anakin thinks you look beautiful, but it isn’t enough. The muted pounding of the back of your skull against the wall shouldn’t be as erotic as you register it, forcing your mouth open, letting him use you, ruin you, own you in the nastiest way possible. 

Anakin’s release comes without warning. His cock twitches inside your mouth and some thick, hot ropes of cum slide down your throat before he moved out of the warm paradise that your mouth was to paint your face with his cum. He exhales shakily, stroking the base to make sure everything is out and on you. The thick globe of cum that slides down your cheek reaches the corner of your lips and you stick your tongue to catch it, making Anakin squeeze his eyes close and wipe the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand.

The silence is everything but tense, it even feels comforting; as if all the words that you two wanted to scream were now said— in such a carnal, animalistic way. Anakin’s hands are gentle as he helps you get up, giving you the time you need to calm yourself and settle the unsteadiness of your legs. His arm wraps itself around your waist, trying so badly not to look at your cum-stained face in order to not get hard again. 

“Sorry,” He whispers as the familiar sensation of guilt makes itself present and commences to weigh his shoulders down. His nose scratches your shoulder, and every negative thought begins to swirl inside his mind. 

“Don’t be” You reply, trying to smile but you are too tired to even do it.

The clock ticks 4:12 am.

“Is it wrong if I say I love you?” Anakin’s voice is searing with regret, what has he done? The martyrdom rings inside his chest, constricting it and echoing like big, golden bells. 

“I don’t know” Your answer is sincere. You blink some tears away, wiping some of his lukewarm cum away from your face, it’s beginning to dry up. “But I love you too, so, if it’s wrong…”

He knows what you are implying. 

The clock ticks 4:16 am when he helps you undress and wipes your face with a makeup remover wipe. Anakin helps you get dressed, noticing your pajama top was an old t-shirt that belongs to him, a piece of clothing he simply imagined he lost in the washer machine. His lips are soft when he tucks you in bed. You smile at him tiredly, kissing him back.

No more words were needed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers! #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skwalker #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfic #stepbrother!anakin #stepbrother!Anakin Skywalker

[jupitercomet]

Ok but along the lines of grumpy firefighter Bradley since maybe he hasn’t had many intimate romantic relationships, what if he makes her feel insecure on accident and now man has to grovel

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝟏𝟓 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

When you first started dating Bradley, you thought that there were exactly two (count them: two) women he liked - you and Natasha. Other than that, Bradley wasn’t interested. Honestly, it kind of made you prideful. Bradley’s very attractive, a fact that’s obvious to everyone but him, and it sometimes makes you hold his hand a little tighter whenever the two of you in public and that barista at the coffee shop has been smiling at him a little too long.

But Bradley isn’t interested. He doesn’t even try to be polite, shooting any woman who approaches him a simple “do you mind?” look and his aura is so intimidating that most don’t even try. He’s not exactly mean about it, he just doesn’t really like people, especially people he doesn’t know. So yeah, it’s comforting to know that Bradley doesn’t entertain any woman flirting with him—it’s just unfortunate that you often feel like one of those women.

When it’s just the two of you, he’s perfect. He plays into your antics for kisses and cuddles and is just so sweet and thoughtful. But when you’re not together, it’s almost like it’s out of sight out of mind. He doesn’t text you and barely responds to yours. In public, it’s little things, like letting go of your hand to gesture something when his other one is perfectly free. 

You try to tell yourself that this is probably new for him, but you’re not exactly a trained veteran either and yet you manage to make an effort with your relationship with Bradley—regardless of where you are. 

You can’t help but wonder if he even wants to be in a relationship with you. Maybe he just felt bad about everything and got caught up in the moment. Maybe he never intended for the two of you to go anywhere and now he’s stuck. 

The thought makes you sick and, as a result, you decide to cancel your date with Bradley tonight. It’s petty, you know, but you’ve gotten yourself mad at him and you don’t really want to see him. He’d probably be happy about it anyway, gives him the opportunity to do something he actually wants to do.

Which is why it does surprise you a tad when he shows up uninvited with a bag of Chinese take-out.

You recover quickly, resting your hip against the door frame as if to close Bradley off from entering your place. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” Bradley looks at you like it’s obvious. “You said you weren’t feeling well, I thought we could just do something chill instead. Is that a problem?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to see you,” you scoff, turning back into your apartment and swinging the door closed behind you. You know that you’re being harsh, but you hate feeling this way and taking it out on Bradley (which he deserves just a little bit) is honestly easier.

Bradley catches the door before it closes, following you into your apartment. “Is there a reason you’re giving me an attitude? Because I thought that we could still have a nice night together, unless you had other plans?” His tone is so condescending that you want to rip your hair out and you roll your eyes.

“Really, Bradley? You really think I’m the one who’s working against our relationship?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bradley challenges, setting down the take-out to cross his arms.

“You know you could have texted me that you were coming over,” you narrow your eyes, huffing at the fact that Bradley’s about as dense as a brick when it comes to expressing his emotions to people—but, then again, maybe in this instance so were you. “Or text me, like, ever. Or hold my hand instead of me always holding yours. Or do anything that makes me feel secure in our relationship. Maybe I canceled on you because I didn’t want to spend our whole date convincing everybody that I’m your girlfriend because you act like you don’t even want one!”

The words ring out in your living room but your underlying message is clear. You act like you don’t even want me.

You let out a breath, ignoring the tears pricking at your waterline and instead grabbing the hoodie you’d left discarded on the couch. It’s Bradley’s—and that fact stings a little bit—but you just purse your lips, bringing it to your chest with a heavy sigh.

“I’m tired,” you say finally. “And I don’t feel that good, and I don’t really want to see you right now.” You turn to start heading to your bedroom. “Enjoy your Chinese.”

You’ve shut the door of your bedroom before Bradley can even respond.

He doesn’t leave though—and maybe there’s a part of you who doesn’t want him to—you don’t hear the front door opening and closing again. Instead you hear the steady thumps of his shoes pacing for a couple minutes and then quiet.

“Can I come in?” He knocks gently.

You don’t answer but Bradley opens the door anyway, his eyes softening when they land on you curled up in your bed, hiding your face from him in his hoodie. You cross your arms and you’re sure your glare is pitiful with your puffy nose and red eyes but you glare at him anyway.

“Can we talk?” He asks quietly. “Or do you want more space?”

You look at him expectantly. 

Bradley nods. “Okay, I’ll talk.” He lets out a breath. “I’m… I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t really care about people like this and I forget that people care about me so— so I just treat you like everybody else when you’re different. And I know you’re different.” He pauses. “But I know that I should make sure you know that you’re different and I haven’t been doing that. So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to take you out and flirt with you in front of our waitress and give you my jacket and— I don’t know, I should have paid more attention when you force me to watch rom coms— But date shit. I want to do date shit with you. Because you’re my girlfriend.”

You smile shyly when he finishes. “You wanna do date shit with me?”

“I want to do so much date shit with you, kitty,” Bradley confirms.

You grin, holding your arms out and Bradley walks into them wordlessly, wrapping you up in a bear hug that seems to say everything he can’t quite manage to with words yet.

“For the record,” he says suddenly, words slightly muffled by your hair. “I like holding your hand. Even when they get sweaty.”

“My hands do not get sweaty!”

“Yes they do, it’s like holding onto a slip n slide.”

“Bradley!—”

“A slip n slide that I love.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but laugh. “Nice save.”

#bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw x kitty #firefighter!bradley #what's up doc

[maxybabyy]

Daniel watches on as Max dodges him for the third time today, shimmies away from Daniel’s hands as he hurries to catch up with GP.

Daniel knows Max likes GP better than most people, knows they’ve been together longer than he and Max have. Max will bring it up sometimes when Daniel’s being needy and won’t stop touching him. He will go, “He is of course my race engineer, Daniel. Always I will have to see him more when it is a race weekend, no?”

Daniel will whine, call them work husbands with no love left for their real spouses. The words will taste sour even to his own tongue, but in the moment it will feel better. Max will say as he did once, “If you do not like this, GP being my husband. You can of course change this also, Daniel.”

So Daniel doesn’t call them that anymore, has taken to kiss him silly instead to keep him put.

But Max’s already been in two meetings with GP, and Daniel has barely seen him today, didn’t even get a morning kiss in before they had to leave for the paddock.

GP is picked off by one of the engineers, young and sweet as he works up the nerve to interrupt Max’s latest rant, hands vivid in the air. Daniel is quick to swoop in, bullies Max into a small alcove with his knee pressed against Max’s thigh to keep him in place.

“Daniel? What is this?” He says, wiggles in his hold. “I of course do not have time for this. Rupert wants me to look over the food that he will order, and I have to –“

“You’re a busy boy, Maxy. I know, just,” Daniel says, digs his knee harder into Max when he still hasn’t stopped moving. “Why are you being weird? I’ve barely seen you today, baby, and now you’re trying to do a fucking runner on me.”

“I am not weird,” Max says, crosses his arms over his chest.

Daniel smiles, sweet and soft to keep his lips from twisting. “Annoyed then? Frustrated? Did I do something to piss you off, babe?”

Max keeps looking at him, steady blues as he doesn’t blink. But his chest starts to move, deep, fast breaths that make his tits strain against the polo he always wears. The wind is chilly too, makes the nips peak out. “I am of course not this, annoyed, frustrated,” he says, voice curt.

“But I did do something,” Daniel guesses. “Baby, whatever I did to make you mad, please just tell me and I will –“

He leans in to touch Max’s waist, face close enough to kiss if Max just gave up the last few inches. But instead of leaning in like he always does, Max twists away from him with a glare, “Always I will see you later, Daniel. You can think maybe about how to not be a stupid idiot then.”

Daniel doesn’t know what to say, watches him walk away with his back against the wall.

“’A stupid idiot’? That’s what he called you?” George asks, digs his fork into the leafy greens Daniel had been too weak to order. “And you’re sure you haven’t done anything bad? Did you forget an anniversary perhaps? The cats’ birthdays?”

Daniel shakes his head. Max doesn’t care about shit like that. Sassy had her birthday back in April, and Jimmy will have his turn after the summer break. Siblings, but not twins. “They of course deserve their own birthdays, Daniel,” Max had said, coaxing a small hat onto the head of a patient Jimmy.

“He was fine last night, had a nice dinner. The hotel room is meh, but that’s not my fault, yeah?” Max had been tossing and turning all night, sweaty where he was pressed Daniel’s chest. But he’s dealt with a tired Max before, and this wasn’t it.

George watches him for a moment, eyes sharp as he stabs his fork through a tomato. “Reckon it’s that thing women do sometimes?” He asks, voice unnaturally casual like he knows it’s a shit thing to say.

“What, George?” Daniel says and abandons his spoonful of chickpea curry. The coriander tastes odd on his tongue, and he wonders if maybe they put nuts in it anyway. “What is it that women and Max do sometimes?”

“I don’t – you know that wasn’t.” Geroge breathes out, in, and then out again. “Carmen obviously doesn’t do this, mind you. And I don’t think Max would either, but there are like, these stories on the internet of women getting mad at their boyfriends because they dreamt about them cheating on them.

“Obviously, Max wouldn’t do it either, but.” George shrugs uncomfortably, the corner of his mouth pulled to the side.

And like, but indeed.

Max barely looks at him during dinner, talks about the press conference like Daniel wasn’t there next to him, and doesn’t answer when he asks about going out for drinks tomorrow.

He’s about to storm back into the bedroom, when Daniel says, “Reckon we should talk about this? Or do you want to keep being mad about something I did in your dream?”

The way Max’s head whips back to look at him is confirmation enough, but the deep, scarlet tint to his cheeks makes it all the more obvious.

“Maxy, why didn’t you tell me you had a bad dream? We could have talked about it together, yeah?” He says. He closes the distance between them cautiously, hovers awkwardly at the edge of Max’s personal space until Max nudges their feet together.

“You were of course a very stupid idiot in my dream, so I thought it would be good maybe to have you think about why it is so bad to do,” Max says, and he sounds so sincere it makes his chest feel tight.

“I reckon that’s fair. It did feel like shit though, thinking you were really mad at me, baby,” Daniel tells him. Max opens his arms, and Daniel is quick to fold himself into them, bury his head in the crook of his neck. The scent of their shared cologne is faint under the day’s sweat. “But you have to know I would never do that to you, yeah?”

Max nods against his shoulder, kisses the crown of his head. “I of course know this, Daniel. It would be very stupid to do this, and you would end up dead also,” Max says. He cups Daniel’s cheek, strokes his thumb along the edge of his jaw, and Daniel knows he’s going to get kissed, soft lips against his, but he cannot –

“Like, yeah. Obviously, I would never cheat on you, Maxy,” he says, covers Max’s hand with his own. To keep him in place, to stop him from moving closer, he doesn’t know. “But, killing me because of it is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Max watches him with a frown, head tilted to the side. “Cheat on me? Why would you do this? Daniel, is this what you dream of? We should talk maybe about this more also.”

Daniel digs his fingers into the dip of his waist, wills Max not to step away, “Hey, it’s your fucking dream, babe. I just think we maybe disagree on whether it deserves the death penalty, but it’s all hypothetical, no?”

Max scoffs, “This is a very stupid dream you have, Daniel. In my dream you were stupid also, so there is maybe something to think about.”

“If it wasn’t – Maxy, love of my life, whom I will never cheat on, ever,” Daniel says, kisses him softly. “Why were you mad at me in your dream?”

Max’s eyes sharpen, and the hand on his cheek drops to hold his shoulder, “Because never would you listen to me, Daniel. We were in the apocalypse, and always you were going to get yourself killed! You did not want to stay with the very nice, very big dog that I told to protect you, and you did not want to eat the food I made for us.

“Always, you wanted stupid Scotty to stay with us, when you knew, you knew of course that he was bitten and would try to eat us. And then I will have to kill him, and you will of course be sad. But I have to save us also, Daniel, so you have to stop being so stupid!”

Max looks so fucking worked up about this, chest heaving and red in the face, and Daniel wants to fucking eat him alive. Kisses him instead, takes what he can get.

“You’re gonna protect me in your big, bad dream, Maxy?”

Max huffs, lets himself be led into the bedroom, “I will of course always save you, Daniel. When you are being so very stupid, also.”

#maxiel #maxiel fic #my fic #fic #my writing #max/daniel

[ronearoundblindly]

Sneak Peek 💜💚💜

frat boy! Ari Levinson x college student!Reader

At a party with your boyfriend when things aren't going well between you, your old classmate--the notorious jock and man-whore, Ari--catches you in a weak moment...

Warnings for drinking/partying but not much else in this bit. (That might be a terrible summary for this excerpt but I made there too much going on to explain succinctly. My bad.) WC 720

The compulsion to be kind and quiet continues as you follow him out, tucking your hands under your arms so Billy won’t try to hold your hand, but it doesn’t matter. He walks ahead of you a few feet to keep up with his friends on the walk down the road to the Kappa house.

The two-story, plantation-style home is packed to the gills, making it hard to maneuver farther in than the front door, and of course, the first person you recognize is a brother of the fraternity living there.

Ari Levinson stands halfway up the staircase overlooking the crowd like a king surveying his domain, hair grown long and a beard worthy of his fifth-year undergrad status. He’s wearing a button-up linen shirt as if he just walked in from the beach, perpetually sun-kissed skin glowing, the carefree blue fabric matching his eyes.

Asshole.

He probably showed up to his own damn house, cocked his head, and smirked.

“Y’all having a party?” he probably asked, chill as fuck.

Idiot…probably. You don’t know what happened to him after Women’s Studies two years ago, but you can’t imagine he got better. Nothing changes.

His queen-for-the-day leans into his ear, her top half covered only by a red bandana and not much below that hidden by a miniskirt.

What sluts. Both of them. They deserve each other.

He’s so sexy though.

His smile is bright while he doesn’t spill the contents of his red Solo cup on anyone below him on the stairs. Seems his drunk coordination has improved since your freshman year at the very least.

“Babe,” you hear yelled close to your ear, “take it!”

Billy shoves one of two cups he’s carrying into your hands and shouts for you to follow him. He wants to play beer pong in one of back rooms downstairs with no room to stand and watch. There are no chairs, but Billy asks if want to play with him. In no reality would he think you’d answer ‘yes’ in this chaos, but then again, he hasn’t noticed you won’t take a sip of the drink you didn’t see poured either.

You yell back that you’re going to find a seat somewhere. Billy gets pulled off for the next partnered game.

The only open spot that isn’t a squeeze beside couples going at it in public is a bench underneath the cutout of the staircase. You took a detour to dump your cup in crowded kitchen’s sink and sit alone for a while, people-watching, wondering vaguely about the king and queen above you on the steps.

Parties…are not all that fun when you don’t feel safe.

You’re not sure how much time passes before a light blue linen shirt invades your view.

“Thirsty?” Ari asks casually, offering the only cup he carries.

You wave it off with a ‘no, thank you’ even though that should be sketchier than your boyfriend getting you a drink.

Ari takes a huge gulp and shuffles his broad body onto the too-short edge of the bench beside you. He seems careful not to touch you or invade your space, the barest graze of a short-sleeve cuff brushing the skin of your upper arm.

Again, Ari tilts the cup toward you. “Jack and coke,” he shrugs, lifting his eyebrows, “mostly coke though. I’ve been here a while. You’re basically late.”

He wouldn’t drug himself with anything, you imagine, and worst case, Ari’s already much drunker than you.

You pluck the half-full Solo from his hand and take a small sip. He’s right about one thing; you can’t smell or taste any alcohol.

Ari smiles softly.

“Where’s what’s-his-face?” He scans the hall. “Probably getting you something better, huh?”

You can’t help but frown and sigh as Ari takes another swig of soda, his pink lips nearly hidden beneath the hair of his beard, but you remember they are quite plump.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” you throw back, and keep your guess silent. Perhaps knuckle deep in the toilet?

Ari contemplates for a moment. “Flying with the pigs,” he settles on.

“What?”

He repeats himself, and then, seeing your confusion, he leans closer to clarify, “she doesn’t exist. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Poor bandana girl. That’s a little harsh to be fobbed off so soon.

“So—”Ari elbows you gently “—how you been, smartie-pants?”

A/N: I cannot express to you the sheer amount of internal screaming I have done while writing this. He's...he's too...uhhhh my gawdddddd. He's too beautiful.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro updates #ari levinson x reader #teaser #upcoming fic #sneak peak #frat boy!ari #fuckboi!ari #really belated valentine's fic #Ari April #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson one shot

[chelleztjs18]

Choices (W.M)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Wanda met you by chance and yet she has a choice to make.

Warning: Angst.. Cheating (i'm not sure to put it as cheating fic or implied cheating), swearing words.

A/n: Hello peeps! Here's more angst for you. I hope you like it! Happy reading!

Main Masterlist

“Are you happy?” Three little words of a question that are simple but complicated at the same time for Wanda. Nobody asked her that question but her, to herself. Everytime the question echoes in her mind and heart, it scares her. She doesn’t have the answer to it, or perhaps she does but she is trying hard to avoid the real answer.

With no doubt, she is grateful to have a beautiful family with Vision. Been with him for a little over a decade, got married for a few years and were blessed with two wonderful sons. It was a picture perfect life. Friends and family kept telling how lucky she is with her life now. Some even straight up told her that they were envious of her happy life and wished they had the life that Wanda has.

Everybody knows Wanda and Vision has a perfect family but nobody knows how she really feels. To Wanda, theoretically, she should be happy. The truth is, she is struggling.

Struggling internally alone for years wasn’t easy at all for her. Battling the depression she has and fighting all the intrusive thoughts is exhausting for her. Nobody knows how she has been feeling unheard and unappreciated by Vision. No one knows how hard headed he is. Wanda feels alone in this so-called happy marriage, so alone.

Wanda is in a deep secret hollow in need of happiness in her and she never tells a soul about it. Despite all of the problems she has with her depression and Vision, deep down, she also knows she is very attracted to women and she wants a happy life with the one she loves someday.

It’s unavoidable that sometimes Wanda hates herself for even wishing to leave everything to have the dream life. It all feels worse as a huge boulder of guilt puts extra weight in her heart. Wanda wants to give up. Sometimes she can no longer find her will to live.

Then, you came. It all started with a simple conversation starter in her inbox, being the friendly person she is, Wanda replied. You two instantly had a magical connection. Messages after messages, turned into more conversations. You and Wanda grew close together. Wanda was lost until she found her again in you.

Friendly words turn to personal. Love words and pet names were all over you and Wanda. Just like a strong magnetic pull, you two are attracted to each other. Strong feelings make both of you get to know each other closer and better. What she and you have was innocent but not for so long.

Before you two know it, it turned into an insatiable desire. A heated affair yet full of love and care starts to form. You and Wanda have been secretly together for almost a year and rent a place where you both always spend time together whenever there is a chance. It was beautiful. You make her smile. Wanda finally feels happy and she feels appreciated by you that she started to love herself again.

You are the perfect definition of who Wanda has been wanting and dreaming off all these years and you see such a soul in her. Wanda falls for you and so do you.

You are all she has been thinking about and you can't run away either from the fact that you want her all the time. You care about Wanda so deeply, all you want for her is for her to be happy. You know you can treat her better than he does and you do. You have been giving her what she deserved and Wanda wants to do the same thing to you. Her feelings for you get deeper and deeper.

Maybe she thinks she fell for you just a tiny bit but she knows that that tiny bit was strong enough to make her want to be with you.

The urge in her to have a life with you grows. You are not immune to it either by now. Both of you keep talking and imagining how lovely it would be to be able to have the dream life together. The dream was flawless and of course made you and Wanda smile endlessly.

It was pure heaven for you, until you started to want her just for yourself. You started to get jealous of Vision. Whenever you are not with Wanda, you wish you were him so you can be with her. You started to wish that you were not just someone in the dark. You started to want to be able to tell people that you are hers and she is yours. It started to bother you more and more but at the same time, you know all of this is not right. She’s a married woman, she has a family. It has been an issue in your subconscious but you tried to ignore it.

The more you spend time with her the stronger your feelings for her and the bigger the urge to call her yours. It has been the talk between you and her every here and there. Sometimes it leads to little arguments and the word “need some space” has been mentioned a few times. With no doubt, Wanda disagrees. She loves you, she doesn’t want to be away from you. Even the idea of it and not talking with you hurt her.

Until one day, you can’t take it anymore.

"You need to understand, Wanda. This is hard for me. My feelings for you get stronger. The stronger it gets, the more jealous I am of your husband. He gets to be you everyday, touches you or just simply being around you. What about me?" You explained frustratedly yet still in calm manners.

It wasn't the first time but it still hits her when she hears that you are jealous of him. She knows it hurts you. Wanda stuttered a little when she was about to answer you but the short silence was enough for you to jump into your own conclusion.

“I understand, y/n. This–"

"Do you, Wanda?" You cut her sentences.

"This is as hard for me as it is to you. I love you, I want you and I value you. You are so precious and special. I want to be with you as much as you want to be with me.” Wanda swallows the lump in the back of her throat after her ramble. She tries to hold back her tears.

“Then choose me, Wanda.” suddenly the thing you want to ask her the most slips out of your lips and just like that a bigger and more intense argument started. You and Wanda started to raise your voices at each other.

“You know I would choose you in a heartbeat, over and over again if Vision and I don’t have the boys. I would never leave my sons.” an explanation and argument flowed out at the same time in her response. Her two hands shoved her hair back away from her face frustratedly.

“I would never ask you to choose me over your kids.  I understand your position as a mom. You deserve better than him, Wanda. I would treat you the best. I will always make you and the boys happy. I care about you, I love you. Choose me over him.” you pour your emotions out. Your and Wanda’s heart start to beat faster as everything feels more emotional.

Wanda’s lips are slightly open. She is speechless. She knows she wants to leave Vision for you but she is worried if the divorce will take effect on Billy and Tommy. Her eyes slowly turn glossy. Her heart wrenches when she sees how sad you look right now. She never wants to be the reason for your sadness.

Your heart aches hearing her silence. “You have no idea, Wanda, I wish everyday that I was him so I can be with you all the fucking time. All of our conversations about our dreamy life together and what we imagine, it messes my mind because I know that I’m always yours but you are never mine.”  Your hand gestures show your frustration even though your voice starts to calm down and your tone is softer by now yet full of emotions. Your chest rises up and down after the long words you said. Your body feels leaden.

Wanda walks closer to you as her hands cup your cheeks, her green eyes look deep into yours. Tears start to fill her eyes. “Y/n, my sweet, I’m yours. You know, I’m all yours. You are all I think about everyday, detka.” Oh the feelings of her soft touches almost got you again but you try to fight it and her soft whispering voice is not making it easy. Then you remember what's bothering you the most.

You pull your face away from her hands as you walk a step back from her. “Yeah, but it’s not right. All of these are not right.” Her stomach churned and her hope disintegrated when she saw you move away from her touch, the touch that you always tell her that it’s your favorite thing in this world.

Wanda furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “Y/n, a few minutes ago you asked me to leave him and now you say everything we have is not right?! You are all over the place. I don’t understand.” Tensions start to grow back second by second.

“I know, Wanda! I know. It has been a battle in my mind lately. I want you for myself but I know I can’t but I’m jealous. I don’t fucking now. All I know, I can’t do this anymore, Wanda. I love you but I just can’t. I’m leaving.” You can’t believe what you just said.

A soft gasp escaped her lips. Her heart shattered. Oh if a broken heart has a sound, you would hear it. “Are you breaking up with me?” she asked and her voice sounds shaky. Her lower lips quivered. You know that she is going to cry and it hurts you. You were right, with one blink she did, her tears rolling on her cheeks.

You close your eyes for a little bit in trying to erase the image of her crying as you take a deep painful breath. "This is gonna be hard for both of us, Wanda, but it's for the best."

You grab your stuff and car key as Wanda watches you preparing to leave.

As you walk you steps out of the house, her soft hand grabs your wrists. "Y/n, please don't leave me. Please. I can’t imagine that we don’t talk or see and not be with each other." She begs with a cry.

As soon as you see her cry, your instinct is to calm her down. You pull her into a hug, for the last time. Wanda breaks a sobbing cry. “I’m sorry.” You crumbled inside.

“No, I’m sorry for putting you into this situation. I’m sorry I caused you pain when I should have brought you peace. Please detka, don’t leave me. We will be so happy together, I promise.” Wanda’s tears soak your shoulder. Her throat thickened with sobs.

“Maybe in another universe or life.” That's all you can say right now.

You leave a goodbye kiss on her forehead then leave right after you let go of your embrace. Everything feels like a knife in your heart. Sorrow shredded you inside. With a heavy heart, you drive away. You never want everything that you have with her to end up like this. Despite the fact that you broke up with her, you still love her. You even think that you would never be able to fully move on from her.

You don’t know how you will get through all this, all you know is it's for the best. You tried to stay as long as you could. You understand her position but you can’t bear the pain anymore and you are trying to save both of you from more of it. You know that it's not fair to you and her marriage with Vision.

Wanda watches you slowly disappear into distances. She could hardly move as tear drops kept falling. “I love you, my sweet. Always.” she whispers as if she wishes that your heart would hear it.

Since then, Wanda has been in a deep sad state. Her heart lives in constant pain, emotionally and even physically. Her heart broke into pieces yet they are all patched with a band of loneliness. Torment seems like it permanently claws her heart. Wanda feels so lost. She feels like she went back to square one after the break up, even worse. She misses you so much, your care, presence, sweet words and your corny jokes. Once again, she forgot how to smile. Every single breath she takes, it hurts. Wanda understands the reasoning behind your actions and she knows that the only thing she can do is to accept it even though she knows she wouldn’t be able to move on from you.

You are as struggling as Wanda does. You never thought it would be this hard but you are determined, at least you try to be.

You fully knew that there will be a lot of things that will remind you of her. You know her like the back of your hand. Things that she loves or hates. No matter what, you will always remember how easily she blushes from your words, those little giggles she does everytime you tease her neck with your kisses. The rushes of feelings you have whenever she lands her soft touches on you. You will never forget how her green eyes playfully give the puppy dog eyes whenever she tries to get what she wants from you and of course you could never say no to them.

Both of you are struggling to keep your heads up from drowning in the memories you had together.

A day feels like a year. Days turn to weeks and surely shift to months. A year does not come without any difficulties to the both of you.

_____

You answer your door and you feel like you have been struck by lightning. Your eyes rounded. Your heart skips a beat and you even stutter when you call her name. “W-Wanda? Uh–Wh-what are you doing here?” You and Wanda always know each other's address, even before the affair started but both of you agreed to scratch them out of the meeting spots list.

You never thought you would see her beautiful face again nor see her standing right in front of your door with a bouquet of the same exact flowers you two used to have at the rented house before. Her smile, it feels like a soothing touch to your crumpled heart.

Wanda was hesitant at first to visit you, knowing how determined you are, she thought you probably moved to a different place by now. As luck would have it, you still live there.

“Hello y/n. I'm sorry that I came here unannounced. I tried to call or text but you never answered me but I really need to tell you something.” She greets nervously, you can even see pride,fear, sadness and happiness all at once. She tries to swallow down her nervousness. Her eyes blink a few times. You still remember how she is whenever she is nervous.

“Hi Wanda. It's–it's okay. I uh- I.. Wait, what-what do you need to tell me?” you are struggling forming your words. Are you happy to see her? Of course! Deep down, you miss her but you have been trying hard to kick that thought out for the last whole year yet you don’t realize that your cheeks blush. Your stomach does somersaults, your legs feel weak.

Her eyes sparkling as she looked at you in awe. Wanda still looks at you with the eyes that want you. Awkward tension roaming freely between you two. Wanda wants to hug you so badly. She scans you quickly until she hears you clear your throat.

“Oh well, I.. I don’t know where to start but uh I’m here to let you be the first person to know. that I filed a divorce, so uh–well, so I can be with you. I’m sorry it took a little while but I’m back. I’m here for you, for us. I chose you over him.” The more words she said, the more nervous she got. An anxious smile shows up slowly. One of her hands squeezes the strap of her purse that's on her shoulder. Wanda is thinking what’s with the pause of your response and the silence.

“Say something, detka.” Wanda vaguely demands, her mind starts to worry instantly.

“I don’t–I don’t know what to say. It–”

Wanda quickly interrupts your words. Her anxiety gets the best of her.

“Isn’t it what you always wanted, y/n?” Her heartbeat doubled in speed by now, her voice is getting shaky. Her throat tightened.

As you are going to answer her, another interruption shows up.

“Babe, who is it? What took you so long?” A redhead shows up asking curiously as she opens the door wider. 

Just like that, Wanda feels the worst heartache in her life. It’s more painful than the one she felt last year when you broke up with her. It felt like a dagger stabs right through her chest and a barb wire wrap to her heart, clawing into it deep and was left bleeding to the last drop. It takes a split second for Wanda to find out the fact that you are with someone else.

How could she do this? Is the only thought she had right now. Wanda doesn’t know that your relationship with Natasha is only two weeks old. She wouldn’t care about it, all she knows is that you found a new love. Wanda doesn’t know anymore which feeling is worse; Not seeing you at all or seeing you but not being with you.

The wounded heart that was numb can feel again, but it’s agony that’s all it can feel. You hear her take a quick shaky breath. Just from everything that happened and that you saw through Wanda’s eyes or face expression, you can feel the pain.

Her pain doubles what’s yours. A full year of trying hard to move on from her yet subconsciously waiting for her to tell you the exact news she told you just now but it never came until today when you are already with somebody else.

Watching her eyes slowly swim in tears and silently jump back and forth between you and the red haired woman feels like a sledgehammer hits your stomach over and over again.

“Oh, she is uh, she came here to–” you internally curse yourself right now. Why on earth you can’t form any full sentences. You never tell Natasha about Wanda, let alone about the relationship you two had. A few different kinds of emotions and feelings melt and smother your heart and mind. You feel terrible now. To who? Both of them but mostly to Wanda.

“To ask if any of you see my dog. He–he ran away to catch a squirrel and I saw he ran this way to your house.” Wanda came to the rescue with a heavy heart. It’s obvious and painful for you to see how hard she tries to keep herself together and not to cry.

“A dog? I don’t think we have seen any dogs around. Do you have pictures of him? Oh, I’m Natasha by the way and this is my girlfriend, y–” Natasha answers, looks confused but she suspects nothing.

“Y/n, she told me her name before and yes I have his picture. His name is Sparky. My sons love them so much. Someone close to me helped me name him.” Wanda continues and shows her dog’s picture on her phone. She steals glances at you when Natasha is focused on Wanda’s phone.

You remember the day you and Wanda adopted Sparky for the boys. Her laugh still sounds so clear in your memory when you pitch Sparky as the idea for the names because of his frizzy fur as if he just got a spark of electricity wave.

“Aww he is so cute. No wonder you look so sad.” Natasha doesn’t pay attention to anything else but the pictures.

“My sweet.” Wanda calls you with the pet names she used to call you very softly that Natasha can’t hear but loud enough for your brain and heart to dig some more memories of Wanda that live rent free in your mind.. You loved it every time she called you that. Surprisingly, it still does the same effect to you now as it did to you before. The way Wanda’s eyes adore you while she is in such pain is not helping at all.

Eye contacts were locked the whole time between you and Wanda. Natasha’s voice finally pulls back your attention and Wanda looks away as soon as you break it..

“Well, You can leave your number and we will let you know if we see Sparky.” your girlfriend suggests.

“Y/n has my number.” Wanda’s quick awkward glance visits your eyes one more time.

“Oh awesome! And what’s your name again?” Natasha asks with a smile.

“Sorry, where are my manners, I’m Wanda. Nice to meet you, I appreciate your help.” the Sokovian brunette replies and offers her hand to Natasha for a friendly handshake then to you.

Unexpectedly, you still feel the indescribable feelings you always get every time you feel her hand touch you. The softness of her touch is addictive for you. You always want more of it. You never get enough of her and everything else about her. “You two make a very cute couple.” Wanda shows a fake smile as she compliments you and Nat.

You know how hurtful it is for Wanda to say it because somehow it hurts you too when you hear it. Natasha thanked her but your lips refuse to do so.

You notice her fake smile slowly turns to sad frown as Wanda turns around. You watch her heavy steps she takes to walk away from you and it makes you realize how hard it must’ve been for Wanda to watch you leave a year ago.

Wanda feels like she’s walking on a broken glass path, it hurts her in every step she takes. Her heart feels empty and numb. She feels so lost. Her heart beats in agony. She feels every part of her is tightly wrapped in a painful blanket that she can’t take it off and it’s sucking the life out of her.

Wanda throws away the flower, she wishes it can be that easy to throw away all of her feelings and all the sweet memories with you but she knows she can’t. You are very special and meant a lot to her. No matter what, she loves you. You have been the reason for her to remember how to smile again, to be happy. She knows that her heart belongs to you even though it would be hard for her to move on. Wanda doesn’t know how but all she knows, she wished that she chose you sooner.

Her heart still hopes for miracle and waits for you in spite of the painful truth she just found out.

You watched Wanda drive away. Internally, you are worried about her driving in her current state of mind and heart.

_____

A few hours have passed, Wanda has occupied your mind the whole time. You can’t focus on watching the show with Natasha.

You are worried about Wanda. What happened today hit you hard and made you realize that deep down you still care about her. You still love her.

You wonder what's on Wanda's mind about you and Natasha but you haven’t realized that deep down you hope that Wanda doesn't misunderstand that you two live together.

Seeing her again a year after definitely tore down the wall around your heart so easily. You thought that you had moved on from her but you were served a plate of truth that the feelings for her are still there. No matter how hard you try, Wanda always has that huge special spot in your heart.

The moment Wanda told you that she chose you over Vision and left him for you was really a surprise for you, it’s not that you doubt how much Wanda loves you but it’s because you know how big of a step it is for her to do.

Your heart keeps commanding you to grab your phone but your brain fights it and barks orders to you to  put it down everytime you do so. Until this one last time, you unlock your phone and search for Wanda’s name in your contacts. You are staring at her name on your phone screen, having this huge urge to tap the message button but you don’t know what to do. Your heart begs you to do it because it knows who it wants you to choose.

“Hello you…” Wanda quickly wiped her tears, her heart racing from her emotions as soon as she read your text. She smiles in her cry. This time the tears that slowly fill her eyes are tears of happiness. She recognizes the greetings, the one that you always do everytime you see or talk to her. Your smile everytime you say it comes vividly in her mind. She still feels butterflies in her stomach as she quickly replies.

No matter what, the feelings are strong, both of you have been the main choice to each other this whole time.

A/n: Welp, that's all from me for today. I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. Follow me for more!

Cheerio!

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @luvmcgrath @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @marvelwoman-sugarbaby @imdoingsortagay @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rain @cristin-rjd , 

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel modern au #elizabeth olsen

[nerdieforpedro]

What He Deserves

Tim Rockford x female reader

My blog overall is Fanfiction is 18+ MDNI

Main Masterlist / Tim Rockford Masterlist

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Tim thinks about what went wrong in your relationship.

Warnings: Sad Tim, angst, body issues, domestic fluff

Notes: I'm trying to write shorter fics to try and get my juices going hopefully for other fics I'm supposed to be working on.

Tim wonders what could have been had he just told you then. That you make him laugh, make him glad that the day’s finally done, that your hand is the one he wants to hold while watching Rocky III for the 50th time. He knows you hate it but you’ll watch it with him because he has you place your legs in his lap while his calloused hands run over your skin.

What should he have said? He wasn’t ready and he didn’t want to lose you. Despite being the gruff man he is, you’d brought out a soft side of him. Something he’d long forgotten since his children were grown and had their own lives. Tim ran his hands over his scalp as the water ran down his back. He had renovated the house for you, your own office, a large shower with dual sinks so you two could get ready in the morning together. He used to joke with you that maybe he should get a brightly colored bonnet too so that he could still see when the lights were off. You’d slap him on the shoulder.

Turning the water off and stepping out of the shower, he looked at himself through the steamy haze. He’s older, more gray than the chocolate brown he’d had. A bit rounder due to those dinners and lunches you’d make him before bed. Now he was back to take out. He’d never thought he would come to hate the stuff but he loathes it now. It means you’re not here with him. You’d put him on vegetable duty while you handled the meat and starches. The doctor said his numbers had never been better and he could stop taking two of his blood pressure pills.

Now what does he do? Who will he talk to at the end of the day? Hold at night? Have to make fun of him a little for his ties and shirts even though you’ll iron them and tie his tie for him in the morning.

He knows you’re at your sister’s place. It’s been a week. The longest fight you’d had. He should have just done the same thing when you asked him about smoothies that he never drank and that you didn’t either, “it’s something to think about.”

Rockford knows you likely weren’t even going to push for anything to happen this year or the next, you’re both in your mid-fourties’ so kids weren’t the issue. You’d just wanted to talk about tying the knot. Taking his name as you’d explained or hyphenating it. He thinks back to the night in question:

Tim’s reaction had been so visceral. “No we’re not. We don’t have to, didn’t we agree to that?!” The look on your face told him his mistake. He should have remained silent or just said he’d think about it. But three bad marriages and four kids from two different women colored him sour to the idea. He knew you’d never been married, that you loved him. You have for the five years you’ve been with him.

He has a rare day off today. He should go and use it to talk things out, explain why even though you’re aware of his past. Likely not about his feelings, most people would assume Tim Rockford would have moved on but he doesn’t. Not easily. It’s why it had taken him so long to ask you to dinner all those years ago. He’d still felt like a failure, a whole ‘three strikes you’re out’ deal. Life isn’t like that. You’re only out when you’re dead, which he’s not. 

In the car, Tim listens to instrumental blues, his feelings floating out of the window with the saxophone. He pulls in front of your sister’s home and sees you sitting on the porch, holding your niece. She’s six but still likes to be held sometimes. You see him and nod, standing and carrying her inside. He steps out and walks across the yard, asking to sit down. Graciously, you allow him to. Your sister peeps her head out and tosses him a dirty look and asks if you’re okay. You say you are and wave her away. 

“She still hates me, I see.”

“Well, she had gotten to the point of tolerating you but it’s back to hate.” Your eyes are red and puffy. Dark circles underneath them tell him what you won’t. He has the same eyes so he knows.

“Sweetheart. I’m sorry I reacted that way. I just…I should have listened.” Tim admits. He’s an excellent listener. You need to be able to interrogate and be a detective. He’d failed the other night though, completely.

“Thanks for coming, Tim. I didn’t mean to bring it up so suddenly. I just wondered if you’d thought about it at all. I guess not.” You turned away from him and looked over the yard, he doesn’t know what your eyes are looking for but he does see fear. You’re scared of what? He reached for your hand, touching it tentatively before grasping it after you didn't pull away. “Or maybe you never thought you would again. Because of the hurt and rejection.”

Your last word stings as his grip tightens slightly. That might be part of your fear, the rejection he gave you that night. He sighs, he can’t deny that it wasn’t, but he wants you to know. 

“I love you. I didn’t mean to reject you or the idea of us getting married. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I…” He pauses. He pondered why it stung so badly when you’d asked. “I wasn’t or rather I’m not sure if I deserve you being tethered to me for the rest of your days. I don’t feel like I’m deserving of that anymore. I’m thankful that you’re with me honey.”

Your eyes are wide and he’s trying to calculate how badly he’s messed up this time. He was honest but what he said did half sound like a break up and then begging. Where was he going with this? Did he even have a plan? You stood while holding his hand then shook it off. Tim thought you might stomp inside the house but you didn’t. You bent down and kissed his forehead and then his lips softly.

“For such a brilliant man, you’re an idiot Timothy Rockford.” His confusion led to a beaming smile from you. “I’m with you and want to marry you because I want to be tied to you Tim. I’m the happiest I’ve been. You deserve to have someone you love beside you as I do.”

Tim shoots up out of his chair and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you almost making you wince. “I’m sorry for being an idiot. I’m your idiot detective baby.” A swift kiss to your shoulder as you tell him you’re going to go inside and pack your bags.

The drive home had Jazz and some classic disco thrown in for you. Singing badly together as you pulled up in the driveway, Tim carried two of your bags as you held your purse. The house was just as you’d left it, minus the take out on the counter. You chuckled at the sight and told Tim you’d cook after putting your things away. He went upstairs to help you and assisted in cooking and putting the take out away. Laughter resumed in the once cold home.

“I think I should make you Mrs. Rockford sooner rather than later.” Tim cooed in your ear as he held you after dinner, rocking you slowly as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“Is that right? It can be small Tim. I’m not one for fuss and too many people. Really, I’d prefer a small wedding and then we spend a few weeks somewhere tropical.” Your hand ran through his graying locks, cut short as he preferred, you chuckled from his beard against your neck.

“Anything you want. I’m fine with it, I’ll have to fit into a tux.” He chuckled and you shook your head.

“You know you look damn good in a suit, Rockford.”

“You’re always right honey.”

Buttons on Tim's Tux: @alltheglitterandtheroar @sin-djarin @morallyinept @yorksgirl @secretelephanttattoo @bitchwitch1981 @heareball @lady-bess @megamindsecretlair @rhoorl @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @agentjackdaniels

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #tim rockford #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #A Nerdie fic

[kybelles]

egeria lives au where she meets laurent at the beginning of kings rising

read on ao3

~

The first thing he notices is how youthful she looks.

If he has his numbers right (and he does, he does) she should be close to sixty. Yet, lounging on her divan while two bulky male slaves fan her with giant leaves, Queen Egeria doesn’t look a day older than forty.

She is also one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen.

Her emotionless hazel eyes follow him like a cat as he comes closer. She doesn’t look like a woman who was held captive by Kastor and only recently got rescued by Nikandros at all. Inside her regal purple dress and with golden laurels in her hair, she looks every bit like the queen she is.

When he stands right in front of her, Laurent bows his head just the appropriate amount. From a prince to a queen. “Madam,” he says. “I was advised to come and greet you.”

The words are spoken in Veretian and he doesn’t use the correct title for queen in Akielon either. His words also imply he wouldn’t appear before her if it wasn’t for the insistence of his advisors.

He is the perfect picture of insolence. And what’s the point of impressing Egeria of Akielos now, anyway? Laurent has already burned down that ship. Burned and spread the ashes to the wind.

The queen’s catlike gaze doesn’t waver. Slowly, she looks at him from head to toe. “Laurent of Vere,” she says in a perfectly clear Akielon. “We heard you kept our son as a slave. That you beat him, whipped him, humiliated him in numerous ways.”

An icy shiver runs down on Laurent’s spine but his face remains neutral. As always. “I’m not sure what madam wants me to say. Would you like me to give you a detailed narrative?”

Rather than getting irritated, Egeria of Akielos slowly smiles. Laurent’s hand subtly clenches into a fist behind him when he sees a familiar dimple on her cheek.

“A sharp tongue,” she says in a terribly soft voice. “A vicious persona and a face that looks like it was carved by angels. No wonder my son was besotted with you.”

The implication that Damen was only interested in him because Laurent happened to match his tastes is so infuriating, so hurtful that it renders Laurent speechless. Egeria doesn’t seem bothered by his silence.

“I bet you wanted revenge for what happened,” she continues in the same softness. Her pronouns have changed from we to I. From queen to mother. “I bet you thought your treatment of him was justified. You thought he deserved it. You enjoyed making him miserable and watching him suffer. Men like you always find pleasantries in the most honorless practices.”

Men like him.

Men like his uncle. Men like Kastor.

His voice is nothing but a deadly whisper. “He killed my brother.”

“Princely blood, shed at war.” Egeria takes a small sip from her goblet. “If you had a shred of my son’s dignity, you would have faced him fairly, prince to prince.”

Something finally snaps in Laurent as a smile spreads on his face. “But Damianos wasn’t sent to me as a prince, was he?” he says, his soft tone matching Egeria’s. “He was kept in a cage like a wild animal, flung at my feet like he was the lowest creature ever existed… By your stepson, in case madam needs a reminder. I wonder what she was doing while her son was slowly surrendered by traitors.”

For a moment, he thinks he has won. Egeria’s fingers that are wrapped around her goblet tighten for a few painful seconds before she chuckles, waving him away as if he’s merely a misbehaving boy.

The treatment is so familiar that his mouth fills with bitter poison.

“We have no interest in explaining ourself to you.” she speaks serenely, her beautiful chin raised pridefully. “Dire circumstances force us to keep up this grotesque misalliance with Vere but beyond that, we don’t wish to endure your company more than it is necessary. Know that and act accordingly.”

Suddenly, Laurent is hit with the most unwelcome urge to cry. Even after the recent events, he can’t remember the last time he felt this small and insignificant.

His wounded shoulder throbs. His trampled pride gets another brunt, even though he didn’t think it was possible.

He recalls a few brief anecdotes Damen has told about his loving, fierce lioness of a mother. Desperately, even though he knows he has no right, he aches to see a glimpse of her, instead of this woman who looks at him with such great contempt.

“Madam doesn’t need to worry.” he finally says. “After the war is done, I shall go back to my country and I doubt we’ll ever encounter each other again.”

“After the war is done, you may go to hell for all we care.” Egeria says boldly. “Now, leave.”

#captive prince #idil writes #LOOK #laurent is my beautiful meow meow and i’m sorry for making him suffer but i just don’t think he and egeria would vibe at first……. at all #so… 🥶

[luckycharms1701]

Howdy Hon! I hope you’re having a fantastic day and just want to send all the love and holiday well wishes!

Just wondering if I might make a super duper self indulgent request? If you’re not feeling it, that’s totally ok hon. Please please take care of yourself first!

But if it’s not too much I was wondering on how you would think the boys (either Rise or Bayverse you can pick) would react to a having SO who was like “strong independent women who needs no man” AKA she’s been taking care of herself and others for so long that she doesn’t know the first thing about receiving care back. As such she gets defensive and tries to “out take care of someone”

AnYhOo, no stress no worries if you’re not in the mood. If so, I heard you like flowers? Here’s a Buttercup for you then! All the loves 🧡🌼

howdy!! thank you for the love and holiday wishes anon-chan! sending them back to you!!

i really love this request! sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it, i wanted to give it the thought it deserved and i’ve been a bit busy with real life lol

thank you so much for the buttercup! ☺️🌼 i love buttercups!! i’m starting to amass a small flower collection from y’all lol i love it

doing bayverse mostly because the thought of bay leo dealing with this cracks me up

Leonardo

Speaking of our boy in blue, oh does he get testy about it. He’s the type who wants to wait on his partner hand and foot, so the fact that you won’t let him? It drives him insane. What do you mean you don’t want him to do everything for you?

He pulls out a chair for you? You sit elsewhere. He asks what’s wrong when he knows you’re upset? You tell him it’s nothing. He brings you flowers? You start handing them out to his brothers?????

Leo tries to be reasonable, he does. But when he brings it up you are dismissive. This is how you’ve always operated, you don’t see the problem. What does he mean, you’re not supposed to give and give and give until there’s nothing left?

It’s driving him up a wall. So he makes a plan. If talking to you about it isn’t going to help you see the problem, then he’ll just have to show you.

Suddenly every time you try to do something for Leo he deflects or ignores or dismisses it.

You go to make his favorite tea? He pulls the box out of your hands and makes it himself. You bring him his favorite cookies, handmade? He doesn’t touch them, Mikey eats most of them. You try to give him a post-workout massage? He walks off.

You are upset and confused, until the next time he pulls out a chair for you. You almost sit elsewhere, but the resigned look on his face hits you like a ton of bricks, and you suddenly get what’s been happening.

You sit in the chair he pulled out. Later, when you’re alone, the two of you talk it out and there are many hugs and some tears. You make more of an effort to let him do things for you, and he makes more of an effort to let you do some things yourself. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

Raphael

Contrary to his brother’s opinion, Raph’s brains are not in his biceps. He’s quite perceptive, and he sees what’s going on. He is not quite sure of what to do about it though. That frustrates him a bit.

Talking to you is right out. He just knows he won't get the words out right and he'll upset you somehow. Besides, he's a man of action.

Funnily enough, his campaign starts out with words. Nicknames, specifically. Princess. Babygirl. Nicknames that are cute, yes, and also suggest someone who gets taken care of rather than doing the care. He also really likes them. Unfortunately, you don't notice what he's trying to do because, again, he hasn't talked to you.

He tries taking a page from (eugghhh) his older brother's book and being gentlemanly and shit. He has about as much success. The less that's said about the time he held the door for you, the better. His frustration level is rising.

Maybe you think he can't provide or care for you? He supposes you aren't that far off when it comes to providing, unless it's protection. If being a gentleman won't work, perhaps being a bodyguard would?

Suddenly he's shadowing you all. the. time. You even catch glimpses of him when the sun is up. It's driving you a little crazy, the lack of privacy. He even follows you around in the lair. Your frustration level is rising.

It all comes to a head the day you find him in your apartment when you arrive home from work. The downstairs neighbor starts banging on the ceiling after ten minutes because of how loud the yelling is. The two of you silently agree to continue the argument in the lair.

When you get there though, Raph just pins you to his bed, and the words finally come to him. About how he wants to help you, be there for you, the way you are for him. He buries his face in your neck and lets it all out.

It doesn't fix everything. But it's the step in the right direction that the two of you need. You come out of his room stronger, together.

Donatello

Donnie is glad you're self sufficient, as it means you don't mind all the time he spends in the lab. You even make sure he eats and has coffee, what more could he want?

At least, until he makes you a little something in appreciation and you smile and tell him that you're thankful but it's okay, you don't need anything from him.

He is absolutely taken aback. You don't need anything from him? At all? That can't be right. He immediately sets to figuring out this problem. After all, how can you be partners without an equal push and pull? You're supposed to be the positron to his electron.

He sees you. He sees how you give and give and give. How you not only never get anything in return, but outright refuse anything offered. This observation does not sit well with him.

He has to fix this. But how? Donnie starts spending more time out of the lab and with you, trying to figure out the best way of approaching this. You notice this change in his behavior.

It’s when you come to him, worried about his behavior of all things, that he sees an opportunity to speak to you. He tries to be as objective and logical as possible.

At least until the end of his observations. Then he hesitates, giving you a small self-deprecating smile as he tells you that he would understand, if this was your way of telling him that you didn’t think he could be an equal partner. That you think him incapable of caring for you the way you care for him.

That, if nothing else, gets your attention. You had never intended to make him feel that way, and you quickly go about assuring him of that. You ask him to help you learn how to be cared for, as you don’t know that you know how to do that. You’ll never forget the way he smiles as he threads his fingers through yours and promises to do just that.

Michelangelo

Sweet boy. Innocent soul. Pure dumbass. He is so upset and he’s not sure what to do. He just wants to love you properly and you won’t let him! Even worse, you take care of him like he is your little brother, not your lover.

He does what he’s always done first: looks to his brothers. However, they aren’t that much help. Leo and Donnie just say to talk to you, but they aren’t exactly clear on what to say. Raph just kind of grunts and glares at him. Perhaps Mikey shouldn’t have asked mid-workout.

Okay. So he needs to talk to you. That should be easy, right? He talks to you all the time. No problem.

His first attempt leaves both of you confused and a little frustrated. He rambles on and on about caring for people and brothers and just makes no sense at all. You tell him to try again when he wants to make sense and walk away.

So for his second attempt he gets serious. Writes down a speech and everything. But when he tries to talk to you, his nerves get the better of him. He stumbles through half the speech before you stop him and just grab the paper and read it.

So now you understand the problem. Unfortunately you don’t think it’s a problem. You’re dismissive of his concerns, and that just kills Mikey. So he turns to art. He picks up his paints and pours all of his frustration, his fears, and his love into his work.

He doesn’t show you the piece. What would be the point? You’ve already dismissed him twice. But his brothers are, as always, looking out for him. Nobody messes with Mikey, especially his partner. So they show you what he’s created.

You don’t necessarily understand fully what is going on in the piece, but the emotions with which it was painted are clear. You realize that this is something that is very important to Mikey, and you dismissed it out of hand like it was nothing.

So you go to Mikey. You tell him that you’ve seen the piece, and you apologize profusely for dismissing what he had to say. You are ready to listen now.

And you do. He is so hesitant at first that it breaks your heart, but as you continue to listen and encourage him he gains confidence. The two of you work together to come up with ways to resolve this issue. And when you’re done, you have your crazy, silly, loving Mikey back.

#talking tag #writing tag #tmnt #bayverse tmnt #bayverse leo #bayverse raph #bayverse donnie #bayverse mikey #*sits down and folds my hands on the table* #listen #i just want raphael to call me princess #is that so much to ask #not sure i filled the request too well with raph but i tried #i need you all to know that writing the sentence 'you're supposed to be the positron to his electron' caused me physical pain #really struggled with mikey of all the boys #that’s a first

[damn-stark]

Chapter 33 Haven’t I given enough?

Chapter 33 of Sugar

A/N- I’m trying to use like 3 chapters of the manga per chapter, but bro these domain expansions make that hard! But moving forward I’ll have a chance to use less manga chapters so we don’t have to move on so fast!

Warning- Swearing, ANGST ;), fluff, violence and blood, SPOILERS!! long chapter!

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- chapters 226-230 (but only the beginning of 230) of the manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*A COUPLE DAYS AGO*

“Can I say something like, whenever I think about a father I never think about you, but you were kind of like one and a lot better than my actual father?” You say with a teasing smile even if just under the surface emotional tears threaten to burst out. And your emotions are especially more heightened at the moment because you’re dancing a dance that’s supposed to be with your father, but instead, it’s your brother.

“No,” Satoru shoots you down quickly and looks at you with a pointed look. “No sappy shit at all for the rest of the night. Even if I appreciate it,” he finishes with a grin.

“So,” you add with the same teasing grin. “I can’t say that even if I would have loved a sister I’m glad I got stuck with you?”

Satoru shakes his head and counters. “No, but again it’s appreciated.”

You laugh softly and drop your head to smile at the ground before you look back at your brother and catch him looking around the dance floor with wonder for a moment before he looks at you with an all too snarky grin. “Considering how much you could do for this wedding in a couple of days, I wonder now how your other wedding was. Was it over the top?” He dares to ask. “I remember Suguru would spoil you even if he said he shouldn’t.”

You glare at him and then whisper sharply. “I won’t talk about my other wedding to another man with you right now. It’s bad luck.”

Satoru scoffs. “Where did you hear that from?” He asks teasingly.

“I'm just assuming, I mean we would be talking about my previous marriage on my wedding day, that’s gotta be some kind of bad luck,” you mumble, making him laugh.

“Women and their superstition,” he says under his breath, mostly just to taunt you because he knew you heard him.

“This is why you’re single,” you remark.

“No I’m single because death for me could be around the corner, and even if it won’t catch me, it could get them, so I’m sparing someone actually,” he goes on to say without sounding lighthearted at all. He let himself be vulnerable.

“Death is around everyone’s corner, no one is immortal, not even Sukuna,” you tell him softly now that you have the space to have a heart-to-heart. Even if people are watching you two dance, they can’t hear you, and Satori won’t run over and interrupt either of you—“don’t deny yourself of a happiness you deserve just because you think you’re doing something good. You don’t actually know anything.”

Satoru scoffs but he doesn’t counter. He knows you’re right, but he does bring up one argument. “You almost died after Suguru died, why would I want to put someone through that?”

You sigh and avert your gaze to share your answer that you take no time to actually think about. You just know grief and loss well, you’re great friends. “Because as selfish as it sounds, at least you were happy. It’s about the memories you made. Sure after death those memories hurt, but after a while, you can look fondly at them and thank the stars that they were in your life, that you got to share your life with them and live together. After a while you’ll realize that they weren’t meant to be in your life forever, they were a chapter in your life you’ll always cherish.”

Satoru lets out a deep sigh, and you meet his gaze and make him laugh softly—but honestly, it sounds pretty forced.

“How poetic of you,” he whispers.

You smile at him and laugh softly.

“Well,” he says softly. “I'm happy you got to meet someone else that you get to write a chapter with. I hope you can share many chapters with this one. And I’m glad Suguru was such a great part of your story.”

You grin and nod before your lips flicker down to a frown and your eyes dull. “Can I tell you something?” You ask in a very low whisper so none of what you’re saying can be heard.

“Go ahead,” he encourages you.

You sigh and hold his gaze to share a secret. “Sometimes I wish I could go back to when I was a naive teenager who dreamed for most of her day and knew hardly anything about the world. It’s only when I’m really down, but I still sometimes want to go back.”

Satoru swallows thickly and sounds completely genuine. “Sometimes I wish the same,” he admits.

You both share a small smile and you can’t help but lay your head on his shoulder and sigh deeply. You stay quiet for a moment after, but before you can finish your dance you break your silence to say one more thing in private. “I want you to write a new chapter in your story after all this is over, Satoru. Let the kids take over and start something new.”

“After I win,” Satoru says softly and confidently. You don’t look at his face, but you know he’s expressing his ever-so-bright and smug confidence. “I will.”

——

*NOW*

A slash to the jugular also doesn’t mean immediate death. You know that too.

So please don’t let this slash on Satoru’s throat be deadly.

“Gojo!” Yuji yells out mere seconds after you with just as much panic as you currently feel riddling your heart.

“Come on,” you mumble and step closer to the screen in some hopeless delusion that you could be closer to your brother.

Nevertheless, seconds later steam rises off Satoru’s slash as he uses RCT to mend his flesh back together.

“He’s healing himself!” You exclaim because you forgot that it was a possibility in your panicked state.

“But as long as he remains within Sukuna’s domain, the slashes won’t stop coming!” Higuruma reminds everyone and makes your excitement dim.

Which is good, you can’t get overly excited.

“Sukuna’s domain has no enclosed barrier,” Choso interjects. “Shouldn’t it be easy to escape his range?”

You let out a deep breath and glance over at him past your shoulder before you drift your gaze to Hakari responding. “Even if we assume Malevolent Shrine’s effective range encompasses the area of razed Shibuya, with Gojo’s speed, he should be able to break out of it in a flash.”

“No,” you cut in to explain. “His teleportation is just an application of limitless where the space between his location and his destination is compressed.”

“But in this short window immediately after his domain was destroyed, Gojo cannot use his cursed technique,” Kusakabe doesn’t fail to add what you left out.

“Which means…” Miwa trails off to let Kusakabe answer.

“He’s in one hell of a pinch.”

You clasp your hands together and return to your seat in between Choso and Yuji to try and watch how your brother will go on about destroying Sukuna’s domain while the monster keeps hitting him with slashes he can’t deflect, and has to keep using RCT for to heal all those shallow cuts—that surprisingly doesn’t cut any material of his shirt, or his pants.

What kind of material is his clothes made from?

Regardless! In the blink of an eye, Sukuna hops off the roof and tries to swing his fist, but your brother quickly blocks him.

“You’d think I’d let you run?!” Sukuna exclaims, and you start to wonder why your brother isn’t running or actually fully healing any of his cuts.

“What is he doing?” You whisper out loud.

Choso catches your comment and probes while you watch Sukuna and Satoru exchange swings. “What do you mean?”

You sigh and shift your body towards him, but keep your eyes on the screen to not miss a thing. “His cuts are still very shallow, he can use this time that Sukuna isn’t throwing more slashes at him to finish healing. He can multitask. But he isn’t…” you trail off and start to think of an answer.

Is he going to use RCT to heal his cursed technique?

“He’s up to something,” you mumble to your husband and can’t help but let a small smile creep onto your face.

“That shrine,” Yuji interjects while Sukuna and Satoru face each other after a heated exchange. “What would happen if he destroyed it?” He asks.

“Usually, objects materialized within an innate domain don’t hold any special meaning or importance,” Kusakabe explains, proving to be quite a patient teacher. “You can think of them as if they didn’t exist at all.”

“If that shrine is simply a symbol of the domain, so to speak,” Mei-Mei says, “then you would not be able to destroy it and there would be no purpose in doing so.”

“So he can’t do anything?!” Kirara shouts, “isn’t that like, super super bad?!”

You glance at them and see that they’re grabbing their face and looking completely stunned at the screens.

“New Shadow Style,” Satoru announces, “simple domain.”

A bright barrier suddenly grows around your brother and those deep cuts now start to completely disappear.

“Simple domain!” Kusakabe exclaims and Yuji follows by yelling out in surprise too.

“I thought he said he couldn’t do that?!”

You scoff and retort. “Satoru can do anything he puts his mind to, it’s an annoying trait, but it’s true. He probably just can’t teach it because he also tends to get everything right in his first try.”

“Why the hell is someone like that in charge of the first years then?!” Yuji follows by asking and you can’t actually answer that, so you shrug. He doesn’t really seek an answer so he drifts the subject back to the fight. “He used simple domain to counter the sure-hit effect while simultaneously using reverse cursed technique to heal his body. How is he even able to manipulate cursed energy while he’s still using RCT?”

“Even still against a real domain,” Choso comments while he picks your travel cup off the ground and hands it to you as you leave it forgotten on the ground—“the only thing a simple domain will do is buy you some time.”

He could use the falling blossom emotion technique, it would be the perfect time so why isn’t he?

This is all hurting your head, so you take a long sip from the tea and slide your hand on top of Choso’s, feeling him instantly secure your hold in his hand by squeezing it tight. All the while Sukuna breaks into Satoru’s simple domain and starts swinging.

However, he does miss your brother because he reacts fast, but Satoru’s domain fades away by the second until there’s nothing left to protect him, causing the slashes to hit him once again.

“Told you,” Choso follows up on his previous comment.

You swallow thickly and notice your brother doing another Simple Domain, albeit this time he doesn’t use RCT either…

“Why the hell—Gojo stopped using reverse cursed technique to heal himself!” Kusakabe points out loudly in frustration and confusion.

You albeit look at the screen proudly as your theories are starting to become a fact.

“I told you he’s up to something,” you remark to Choso quietly so only he can hear.

“What?” Choso asks.

You meet his gaze and smirk at him. “Watch,” you don’t give out the surprise you assume Satoru wants to give. “I should’ve bet you.”

“I never doubted you.” He deadpans.

You hum and shrug. “I still should’ve. I could’ve won something like a kiss, or a second to gloat.”

The corner of his lips perk up to a smile and he lifts your hands to kiss your knuckles whilst you look back at the screen whilst Ino argues against someone, but you don’t catch who.

“…Like I said, that's under the assumption he’s using cursed energy normally! Right after using domain expansion, he started using RCT at max output, which consumes twice as much cursed energy! And that’s not even taking into account the fact that Sukuna’s still pouring on attacks!”

Is he forgetting that Satoru Gojo is fighting?! He’s not like everyone else.

Nevertheless, as you continue to watch the fight you notice that Satoru’s second simple domain breaks, and more cuts slash his face. It honestly seems like he’s close to reaching his end, but then in the blink of an eye, he zooms to Sukuna and catches him completely off guard when he jumps on him to wrap his body around Sukuna’s.

“Cursed technique reversal,” Satoru announces and proves you right; he leans back and points two fingers at Sukuna.

“Yes,” you mumble happily and suddenly stand up.

“Can he do that?” You hear Okkotsu shout, which is surprising, you’ve never heard him be so emotional. He looks so reserved.

“That’s why he didn’t heal himself,” you point out proudly.

“He was using his RCT to heal his exhausted cursed technique?” Okkotsu asks rhetorically to the group.

“Red,” Satoru mutters and blasts out a bright and powerful technique that sends Sukuna crashing through his shrine, and finally gets him badly wounded.

Will that affect him completely? No, but he’s still wounded.

“Jeez. What a pain in the ass,” Satoru sass’s Sukuna, making you hold your cup against your chest as you smile brightly.

“Using RCT to heal his exhausted cursed technique?” Okkotsu still can’t seem to grasp what just happened.

“Okkotsu!” Kusakabe yells out, but the boy goes on.

“I’d like to say it’s impossible but the fact is Gojo is doing just that! A cursed technique that’s been burnt out by using domain expansion is an entirely different matter than physical damage,” he explains. “Just like when a machine overheats, even if it isn’t broken, you have to let it cool or it won’t work.”

“So what you’re saying is that RCT can repair damage but can’t cool an overheated technique?” Maki asks.

“That’s why I always thought, but it looks like my understanding was incomplete.”

You sigh and sit back down again, but out of the kindness of your heart, you explain why he’s having such a hard time understanding what Satoru just did. “That’s Satoru Gojo for you. Don’t overwork yourself, man, he’s strong, stronger than everyone, what he can do will never compare to what we can do.”

“Yes,” Okkotsu mutters, “I'm understanding that.”

“You can expand your effective range, can’tcha?” You catch Satoru ask Sukuna smugly.

But as if answering, Sukuna does a hand sign and does exactly what your brother just asked, causing your smile to fall.

“Are you crazy…” Kusakabe’s words trail off in your ears as Satoru expanding his own domain expansion and leaving you all in the dark once again catches you by surprise.

“Does he just want the same thing to happen again?!” Ino exclaims.

“He isn’t that naive,” Shoko defends your brother.

“I see,” Mei-Mei muses.

“He switched the internal and external conditions for the barrier,” Higuruma points out, and Hakari adds on to that piece of information.

“Which means this barrier…”

He trails off and Yuji excitedly picks up where he left off. “…can guard itself against attacks from the outside!”

You clench your jaw and lean forward to watch every screen carefully to look for any crack or difference in the barrier since that’s all you can look at as of now.

“Seems a bit unfair that he can just change the conditions of his domain on the fly,” Kusakabe mumbles.

You’re really starting to hate all these domain expansions! They leave you completely in the dark, you can’t see what Satoru is thinking and planning, and what Sukuna might be scheming. You can’t see if Satoru might miss something or if he needs some kind of aid, you have to wait, not long, but at this very moment time isn’t kind, it’s determined to torture you by moving slowly.

But you also know you shouldn’t let yourself feel so tortured, it hasn’t been long at all since the fight started, and there’s hopefully still so much more time to go.

Satoru has gotten wounded but he hasn’t hit the brink with no return. Sukuna hasn’t even tried yet either, which means there’s still a lot more stress to go through, and you can’t let this affect you as much as it is.

“Do you need to step out?” Choso worries over you.

You meet his gaze and shake your head. “No, no. I just need to remind myself that he’ll be okay.”

Choso nods. “He is. He’s done great so far.”

You sigh deeply and let those words repeat in your mind so you can hold onto that hope and not push yourself to a dangerous edge of deep anguish.

“There isn’t just one way out of a domain,” he adds to try and calm your nerves. “Not for strong sorcerers like them.”

You knew that but you still need to hear it from someone else.

“Either of them can break it without meeting a catastrophic end, or your brother can be a smartass and have something up his sleeve…not like he has any.”

You can’t help but snort and crack a smile at his silly comment, making the corner of Choso’s lips tug on a faint smile because of the fact he could make you smile.

“They are taking longer,” you point out and glance back at the screen still displaying the black barrier.

“I don’t think it’ll last much longer,” he says.

You take his hand again and he interlaces his fingers with yours before he tucks them in his sleeve as he hides his hands in his large sleeves, and slouches down to rest his elbows on his legs.

The pictures on the screens are at a standstill for a few more seconds before the barrier explodes, and Satoru finally shows up back to back with Sukuna.

“I should have bet you,” Choso remarks.

You glance at him and smirk before you lean over and press a peck on his cheek. Instead of pushing yourself back to your spot you stay pressed against him and watch the fight continue on screen.

“Take it from the top, eh?” Sukuna brings up something neither of you understand, and then hits Satoru with multiple slashes that harbor so much strength that your brother goes flying back.

Again, you can’t stress yourself over every wound your brother gets, and or every hit he receives, but you really can’t hold back from feeling anything but panic and stress. Just like when you watched Choso fight Kenjaku, only you weren’t expecting his babies then or married to the man.

You can’t even imagine being in your current state and having to watch a similar situation with Choso now. You’d probably die from a lack of air in your lungs, or die from a collapsed lung because of how heavy you feel it. Or your heart would explode. Either or.

“Why?!” Yuji bellows.

“Looks like Sukuna’s also changed the conditions of his domain somehow!” Kusakabe points out.

“Hey,” Kashimo cuts in with blunt honesty. “If he dies I'm going out there next.”

You clench your jaw and snap back. “Shut up.”

“You can’t try and stop me,” he thinks you’re trying to defend him, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth, even if you do consider him a friend.

“No,” you spat. “Stop talking like if this is the end. Satoru has proven he can take what’s thrown at him.”

“Hm, well he’s also gotten pretty close calls, I wouldn’t bet all my money on him, he’s proving to be a losing bet.”

You draw in a deep breath and get ready to argue, but Choso gives your hand a gentle squeeze and leans forward to shake his head.

You take that as a sign to let it go and only listen because your brother is still standing…And Choso is also right, Kashimo is not worth your time.

“I learned this one when I was a kid,” Satoru interjects and omits a technique you’ve used before, and one you wanted him to use; the Falling Blossom Emotion technique—“I haven’t used it much since I mastered my domain, but not bad right?”

You lean forward and manage to catch Kashimo’s gaze like you wanted and shoot him a smug smirk.

“Falling Blossom Emotion!” Kusakabe yells out and slightly startles you.

“What is that?” One of the students asks.

“Dunno.”

“Not sure.”

“No idea.”

“It’s weird how in the know you are Acchan.”

Yes, how does he know a secret art form?

“It’s a secret art of the big three sorcerer families,” Panda explains to the clueless ones before you had a chance to—“an anti-domain technique. Not so secret if you knew about it Kusakabe.”

You hum and continue to explain how it works while you still look at Kusakabe suspiciously. “It’s an application of cursed energy that automatically repels anything you touch. It won’t work against Satoru’s infinite void, but if you’re up against a simple technique like Sukuna’s slashes then it’s pretty damn useful. It saved my life against Kenjaku because it doesn’t tear apart like a simple domain either.”

“But you won’t come out unscathed,” Choso adds. “Remember, you only managed to get spared from getting hurt because Tengen broke Noritoshi—Kenjaku’s domain.”

You sigh and nod. “Right. Still, It’s useful.”

“Exactly,” Shoko agrees from across the room where she can smoke without letting any of the fumes hit you—“it’s enough and Gojo can heal his burnt-out cursed technique with RCT. At the very least he’ll buy enough time to heal.”

Or…not considering he proceeds to open yet another domain expansion.

“Damn,” you groan and feel a grip on your throat tighten.

Plus this time the domain grows a lot larger, as if he’s trying to capture Sukuna's entire domain range within it. But then he switches up his domain and it grows incredibly tiny, consuming all of Sukuna’s domain, and making that weight on your chest only get heavier.

And again you can’t push yourself to a brink, you’ll only freak out and that won’t be good, so instead of waiting again you get up and pass Choso a quick comment, “I'm going to get some air, I’ll be back.”

He stands up immediately, but you grab his bicep and assure him. “I’ll be okay, I just need to calm myself down.”

Choso seems hesitant and like he’ll ignore you and follow you, but he actually listens and lets you go outside by yourself.

And as much as you despise solitude you actually find a moment of peace where you don’t feel like your head will explode.

Maybe it’s the silence or the fact that you’re not overwhelmed with thousands of screens, or surrounded by multiple people. Which, you never mind being around so many people, but today with your stress everything’s a bit overwhelming.

However, when you look out at the city past the balcony, you can’t help but feel a bit…not scared, it’s not fear you feel upon looking at the secluded city, it’s disbelief.

The city used to be filled with people but now it’s all been evacuated due to the fight. It honestly makes it feel like it’s the end of the world. Which is chilling and brings forth a hint of loneliness, but also curiosity.

Is this how your world would be without non-sorcerers?

It’s kind of lovely…

Nevertheless, you turn to face the door and just look up at the white sky and get startled by your phone ringing. When you check who it is your breath hitches when you see Larue’s name on your screen.

“Hello?” You answer nervously as you think the worst. “Larue?”

“She’s fine,” he says right away since he hears the fear in your voice. “They all are.”

You let out a deep breath and now feel a bit puzzled as to why he’s calling. “Are you okay?” You ask. “Did the flight get delayed?”

“No, no, I’m just calling to let you know…” he pauses and exhales deeply before he continues. “I’m returning to Japan with Miguel. And before you ask, Manami, and Toshihisa stayed with Satori, and they will all be protected by the guards.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and can’t even answer right away because of how thrown back you are.

“They’ll all be fine, but now you have to fight harder to go back to Satori,” he says nonchalantly.

“You left Satori?” You ask because when you meant that you trusted your family to take care of your daughter you only meant Miguel and Larue, not Manami or Toshihisa.

Sure you know that they’ll probably be safe in Africa nonetheless, but Manami has little patience for kids, and Toshihisa doesn’t feel that much responsibility for taking care of kids, he acts like her brother, and they fight together!

“I know I’m sorry I told you something else, but I knew you’d protest otherwise, and you’d want to keep Satori here,” he explains. “Besides, Miguel wouldn't agree to fight without me. He says it’s better to fight with more friends.”

You rub the bridge of your nose and let out a worried sigh. “Of course, he’d say that,” you finally muster something else. “Just…I wish you would have told me before I sent my daughter away, but,” you groan and clench your fists. “There’s nothing I can do about it now,” you mutter to yourself.

“Why can’t either of you just talk to me?” You ask with annoyance. “First…” you trail off and let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I know this doesn’t work in our favor, but think about this, who better to take care of your daughter in a time like this than family? She’ll be fine.” Larue speaks softly and kindly to try and comfort you. He tends to do that all the time.

“I told you she’d be mad,” you hear Miguel tell Larue. “You should have told her before.”

“Quiet.”

“Well,” you mutter and turn your fist to look at your nails. “It seems we'll fight together now.”

There’s nothing you can do now.

There’s nothing you can do now.

There’s nothing you can do now…

“If!” Miguel cuts in from the other side. “There's a chance Sukuna will be dealt with before it’s our turn to join, so, if we join, you’ll fight with us.”

You let out a deep sigh and nod. “Yes. If. Still…if I’m not there be careful, if I am—”

“We'll fight with all we have like we always have, for Suguru and for our family,” Larue inputs, making you lift your eyes and look at the white sky with a softened look.

“Yes for our family, Suguru, and Nanako, and Mimiko,” you repeat quietly. “They’ll be avenged today.”

“They will,” he says confidently at the same time the door opens behind you; and thinking it’s Choso coming to check on you, you peer back.

However, to your surprise it’s Kirara.

“Larue, I have to go,” you cut off your conversation and look back ahead. “I’ll see you.”

“Be careful, and I’m sorry again.”

Larue hangs up first letting you put your phone away to turn and face Kirara, noticing they have water bottles in their hand.

“Is everything okay? Are you feeling fine?” They immediately worry.

You smile brightly and nod. “I'm fine, I just needed to catch my breath.”

Kirara lets out a relieved breath and grabs at their chest. “Good,” they say breathlessly. “I saw you come outside and I got worried.”

You smile with appreciation and approach them to grab their shoulder and press your reassurances. “I'm fine Kira. There’s still so much that’s going to happen so I thought a break would somewhat calm me down.”

They hum and hand you water. As you take it they grin brightly.

“About what’s going on, I would have come sooner but I wanted to wait to give you some good news,” they add with growing excitement. “Satoru managed to break Sukuna’s shrine, and he wounded him! Which might be nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it’s process, don’t you think?”

Finally, Satoru managed to probably scrape Sukuna, and get rid of that ugly open domain!

“It’s something,” you agree with Kirara. “Thank you for that. I needed to hear it. Now how are you feeling? I need to ask before I don’t have the chance to.”

“Me?” They point at their chest. “Well, to be honest, worried for Kin, you, and the rest of my friends, but mainly Kin. And you. This is much bigger than Egypt or anything we’ve faced, Kin can die…I’m scared he’ll die.”

You sigh and watch the agonizing grief already take root behind their eyes. Nothing has happened to Hakari, but Kirara still fears for the life of the man they love. You can relate to that kind of fear.

“Yeah, I know what you’re feeling. I’ve had the bad luck of living through that fear more than once. I can’t say it’s easy. And it won’t go away until you see them breathing after the fight…and if something does happen…” you start to be honest so they know what they might face. So they can somewhat prepare for that blow to their soul.

“…You will die a little, it’ll be agonizing going on without them, you won’t know how to live, but…it won’t be the end,” you admit softly, seeing their face twist with horror because even if they like to hear you say the truth, hearing this truth is hard.

“You’ll relearn how to live,” you continue. “The color will return to every corner of the world, and your grief will be a scar. You’ll find that time will heal what was broken, and…” you pause and smile softly at them. “Those you least expect will help you realize that it isn’t the end.”

Kirara swallows thickly and looks down with a sad frown, but then they seem to realize who you’re referring to and smile. Yet you don’t see it so you quickly interject. “I’m not trying to be negative, I just…”

“I know,” they cut you off and finally show off that smile to you. “You just want to prepare us. I understand. I admire it.”

You smile softly and continue with the other matter to bring up something more positive. “Kinji is strong, he’s got luck on his side. He’ll be fine.”

They tighten their hold on their water bottle and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

“I believe in the abilities you and Kinji possess, and your unbreakable spirits,” you add sweetly and cup their shoulder again. “You will preserve. He will too.”

Kirara pats your hand and offers you a soft smile. The door proceeds to open and this time Choso is the one that shows up and calls out your name with panic before he throws out his concerned filled question. “Are you okay?”

You meet his gaze and nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed some air.”

Choso still studies you to make sure, making Kirara grab your hand to put it down before they step back and excuse themself. “I’ll get back inside. If you take longer I’ll come back to update you master.”

“Great thanks!” You nod and watch them leave before you put all your attention on Choso. “You know when you fought Kenjaku, when I was watching you on that screen Tengen put up, I could barely breathe. I felt the exact same way I’m feeling now. Only ten times worse. That’s how I knew I loved you, how I knew I couldn’t live on without you being by my side.”

Choso’s face grows a deep red and his hardened expression falls, letting a happy gleam twinkle in his eyes.

“When I was watching you while I waited,” he shares his side of the story now. “I was going crazy. Besides being angry at Kenjaku and wanting to go kill him, seeing you there was driving me crazy.”

You smirk and approach him to close the gap left between you and cup the sides of his neck. “I hate watching this fight. Just like I hated watching you fight,” you say.

Choso grabs your cheeks and nods softly. “I know sweetheart. But hey, I’m with you. I was the one fighting the last time, but I’m here now.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod in comprehension before you slide your arms around his neck and muzzle your face in the crook of his neck to feel comforted by his warmth, and feel secure by his tight embrace before you have to go back and continue watching your brother fight.

“Can I tell you something?” Choso interjects seriously as he rubs your back.

“Hm.”

He sighs deeply and continues without breaking that serious demeanor. “My brother who has a stutter is in prison.”

Oh? Is he using your trick on you?

“It’s just heartbreaking knowing he’ll never finish his sentence,” he finishes and you hear the pride in his voice.

You pull back and see a faint proud smirk on his lips, which only makes what he said that much funnier, and makes your heart skip a beat before it flutters after hearing his pun that he most likely learned just to cheer you up.

And it worked, you smile widely before you drop your head on his shoulder and laugh.

“That’s just so messed up,” you murmur.

“It really is,” he agrees before he grabs your shoulders to step back and face you. When he sees your amused grin he can’t help but smile in awe.

“That one was the quickest one I actually understood. The other ones took longer,” he admits before he brushes his thumb over your lips that are pulled to a smile, and leans in to press a gentle kiss on them. “Do you feel like going back inside now? Or do you still need time?” He then asks.

“If I stay longer I'll be tempted to listen to another joke and just go on and tell you the ones I know, so let’s just go,” you say and take one of his hands to return inside.

Yet before you can walk past that door, you lean over and press a peck on his cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper in his ear. “That really made me feel better.”

Choso smiles bashfully and turns his head at the same time you do, letting your lips meet for a short kiss before you return inside.

——

*A COUPLE MONTHS AGO. EGYPT*

“I wonder what this says.”

Without looking at what the students are referring to, you share the story behind all the hieroglyphics carved on the walls. “To summarize, it's about a man loving his wife so much that he couldn’t fathom going on a second without her after her death, so he killed himself so they could be wrapped away in the same sarcophagus...” you trail off quietly and peer over at the sarcophagus of the man and woman.

How loyal and in love was that man with his wife that he chose death over continuing to live on because she would no longer roam the earth.

How stupid too, but how envious do you feel as well…they never spent a day apart after they married, and they never spent a day apart after death. Their love is endless now that it’s forever marked in this pyramid…

Your love for Suguru will always be marked within Satori, but that isn’t enough.

Are you a terrible person to admit that? To say that a child born out of love isn’t actually enough to commemorate your love for Suguru, because no matter what, he will always be gone now, and every time you look into her eyes you will remember who you couldn’t save.

“You know how to read hieroglyphs, master?!” Kirara snaps you from your stupor.

“No,” you deadpan and twist around to point your flashlight at their face. “I read up on the history of this pyramid after we were told we had to come here.”

Kirara flashes their light on you with their lips formed to an ‘o’ and whispers. “That makes a lot more sense.”

You can’t help but muster a gentle smile before you move down to admire more of the work carved on the walls. “Their children built this after their death,” you muse and hear stone scraping against the ground; and as if a sixth sense you interject right away as you sense trouble. “Put it down Hakari, we’re here on a mission not to be tactless grave robbers.”

“How does she even know?” You hear him whisper as he puts down what he has in his hand.

You smirk and choose to leave the question unanswered for a dramatic flare.

“Besides we have enough to deal with, we don’t want to get cursed now do we?” You tease and spare them both a glance before you walk along the wall to continue admiring the art.

“I’ll welcome whatever cheesy love-crazed curse they cling onto me,” Hakari remarks smugly and cracks his knuckles.

You look down at the worm cursed spirit wrapped around your neck and share a judgy look like if you're your best friend.

“Well,” you scoff and smirk. “We’ll be your smirking revenge then,” you murmur.

Hakari chuckles loudly after you didn’t think he’d catch it, and your cheeks grow slightly hot. But you’re filled with more pride than bashfulness because he laughed at something you said without having to be forced to do it.

He and Kirara usually tend to joke with you and appreciate more of your brash humor than your puns. Nanako and Mimiko have reached that stage in their lives where you aren’t that funny to them. Where they once used to find you hilarious now they can’t stand any of your jokes, it’ll pass, but hearing your students find you funny is…refreshing.

“We should keep going, the sooner we find the curses the sooner we get out…”

“And explore,” Kirara blurts exactly what you were thinking.

“Exactly,” you praise them and look over your shoulder to flash them a grin.

“You know, considering that you and Tsukumo are special grade, I never thought you’d be so laid back,” Kirara says, making Hakari scoff and retort.

“We know Satoru can be lazy when he’s not working, why does this surprise you, Kira?”

“Well Satoru is Satoru, and Tsukumo and our master are different. I just thought they’d be more serious on missions.”

You make no effort to walk out and instead walk over to where the sarcophagus is to admire the details still visible on the stone, whilst Hakari slowly makes his way to the entrance of the next passageway you’ll take.

“It’s because we’re special grade that we’re so laid back in missions,” you share honestly. “We’re risking our lives more than others, especially those who hire us, why can’t we enjoy ourselves while we’re out?”

“Hm…well that sounds smart,” Kirara says.

You turn and face them with a smile, realizing at that moment that Hakari was already out of the room so finally decide to do what you said and walk out, followed by Kirara.

And up until now you never knew how fast of a walker Hakari is when he wants to be because you can barely catch up, you have to basically jog to catch up to him.

“Hey, what’s—”

Kirara cuts themself off when Hakari puts his hand up to shush you both.

“What?” Kirara whispers out.

Hakari looks over his shoulder and you notice the seriousness in his gaze now so you lose all your awe and amusement and fall serious too. After you quickly focus on trying to catch if it’s cursed spirits he caught, you see just that, a terrifying amount of cursed energy up ahead just in the dark room past Hakari.

“I’ll follow your lead, you two,” you remind your students since you brought them along to train. “We could call Yuki and the twins, or plan something ourselves.”

Hakari and Kirara meet each other's gaze and brainstorm in silence for a moment, making you turn your flashlight off and just focus on the cursed energy the curse radiates.

But wait, there’s not one curse there’s multiple…Which shouldn’t be all that surprising, why wouldn’t a pyramid made for passionate lovers be cursed? They probably cursed it themselves without knowing.

And if there's multiple just past the passageway, how many are multiple exactly? And why are they ahead and why weren’t they where you just came from, hm?

“The way we came from must be the way out,” Kirara interjects exactly what was on your mind. “So the curses ahead will probably not be aware of us until they see or hear us, so we could surprise attack and gain the upper hand…”

“…but if we attack, does that mean somehow there’ll be more? We haven’t quote on quote triggered any alarms, they could be unaware and only be active when we trigger their defense system, so what if there’s more hidden in the shadows, and attacking these fuckers only triggers more to come out?”

You sigh and nod softly. “That could happen, and…” you swallow thickly and feel a grip around your heart. “We would expose Yuki and the twins…”

It’s not that you don’t trust Yuki, you trust her more than anything, but this place doesn’t have a fortified foundation anymore and it’s hundreds of feet tall and made of stone. This can all easily crumble down and bury you and everyone else with it. That’s what worries you.

But they are paying you to get rid of the curses that haunt this pyramid, so how can you do this without making a mess?

“Kin…master?” Kirara whispers out for your attention.

“Hm?” You probe and look over. And the moment your eyes land on them you see that two huge beetles have made their way on their arm and shoulder.

“Stand…” you gag at the sight of their creepy legs and bug-like bodies. “Stand still.”

You flick your fingers to flick off the one on their shoulder by manipulating a small whirlwind. Next, you aim your fingers to flick the one off her arm, but it starts to crawl up so your aiming is off and instead of swiping it off swiftly, the beetle bounces up and hits their mouth, causing them to squeal out.

Hakari quickly leans over and puts his hand over their mouth and pushes them against a wall, whilst you freeze and drag your eyes out to the danger, hoping they didn’t hear, but they did; snaps echo in the room and then instead of some kind of messed up figures you see glowing white cloudy eyes all staring at the three of you.

“Shit,” you hiss and slowly lift your hand to prepare to shoot fire.

However, suddenly they all start to sprint towards you, and since you’re in a narrow passageway they can easily overwhelm you. And even if there’s a lack of air and water inside, you still have a lot of stone and sand, so to buy you time, you stomp your foot on the ground and thrust a fist up to lift stone off the floor and make a wall to block them from reaching you so fast.

“We need to find enough empty space to face them, this will buy us time to run before they break out and come and find us. Come on,” you urge them and lead the way back to where you came from, finding yourself back in the tomb room, but since that space isn’t as spacious you plan to move on.

However, just before you can make it out, the people carved on the walls pop out from the walls and grow tall, and have the same cloudy white eyes, followed by rotting appearances that make them look like unwrapped mummies.

One of them catches you off guard and lunges at you, causing you to yelp and stumble back, and bump into the sarcophagus.

This makes the corpses suddenly stop what they’re doing and take a second before they all suddenly screech loudly, making Kirara and you cover your ears.

“What did they do?” Hakari asks with concern.

You don’t try and answer because you don’t know, instead, you push the students behind you and throw your hand out to engulf every single corpse in flames that is born from your cursed technique.

Yet even if your cursed technique exorcizes them all, that doesn’t stop the ground from starting to violently shake, which in turn causes the walls and ceilings to start crumbling and dropping dirt and small rocks.

“It’s coming down,” you murmur in disbelief as you snap your head in the opposite direction because you hear multiple distant footsteps approaching rapidly—“and the others are coming. We have to run and take care of them outside. Go!” You bellow and push them ahead of you first.

Hakari leads the way, and you don’t proceed to run into any obstacles in the way, but that’s because you're running through passages that aren’t marked with stories, or paintings of people. You’re running down an empty hall with a falling ceiling that you barely catch with the help of you manipulating the air within the room to keep the ceiling from collapsing on all of you.

“Go!” You shout sharply so they would understand. “There’s only so much air in this room, and soon there will be nothing. Go! I’ll catch up.”

Kirara shakes their head and they quickly argue back. “No! We can make it out together!”

The other curses are approaching fast, you can hear their footsteps get louder, and this ceiling is only getting heavier to keep up as more stone falls on it.

“If I drop this the entire room falls before either of you can make it out, but I can hold it up and walk out alone. I can’t move air through all your lungs, just mine, you’ll die. Go!”

Kirara steps back and this time Hakari hesitates to listen to you, after all, he hasn’t told you but you have changed his life. He felt believed in because of you, how could he let a mentor like you go?

“Kinji Hakari,” you scold. “I’ll catch up soon and we’ll fight together.”

He draws in a sharp breath and lets his eyes linger on you for a moment.

“Kinji,” you shout.

Said man turns sharply and runs away with Kirara, letting you use more air to hold up the falling stone.

However, you can’t say you won’t welcome death. Because you will.

Oh sweet death, how tempting is your offer because there in your realm is him, Suguru Geto.

He will welcome you with open arms and you can be with each other for the rest of eternity because it’s true, you can’t live on without him by your side.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble to the image of Satori, Nanako, and Mimiko as you get ready to drop the stone weighing you down to also drop it on the curses only feet away now.

However, like shining white lights of hope, Hakari and Kirara return to the hall with their breaths held since all the air in this room is either flowing through you or being used to hold up the stone.

“No, what are you two doing?!” You panic.

And since they can’t answer they simply ignore you, and they work together to use their cursed energy and punch through the floor, making it all suddenly crumble down and pulling you with it.

Since you lose your concentration when you’re falling, the stone you were holding up falls too, but unlike you, it stops when it hits the floor you were on. Some pieces fall with you, but thankfully not enough to crush you.

And thankfully you don’t fall to your deaths, you hit some solid ground not far below the previous floor. Your body does instantly hurt at impact, but you’re all alive. You’re alive, Hakari and Kirara went back for you. They didn’t have to, but they did.

They went back for you…

Why—no, you know why, you’re their mentor, but you didn’t think they cared so much as to risk their lives for you. You wanted to die, but they risked their lives and saved you…

“Master!” You hear Kirara yell before they get on their hands and knees and crawl over to you. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

You drift your eyes over to meet theirs and with lingering disbelief, you nod slowly.

“Why?” You can’t help but ask. “Why did you go back?”

“I know, I know it was stupid,” they defend themselves and Hakari. “But how could we let you take all the risk? You’re our mentor! We care about you! You’re special to us.”

You blink repeatedly and hold back tears even if your throat starts to sting.

“Yeah it’d be pretty stupid to let you die,” Hakari interjects. “Where could we find another mentor like you?”

You sit up and snap your eyes to him and offer him a faint smile.

And for the first time in a while, you feel a bit of your broken heart heal. Whereas before it was like you were left with scabs over your broken heart, now it’s actually mending as you realize that it doesn’t have to be the end.

——

*NOW*

“What’s going on?” You ask the group of attentive sorcerers as you return to your seats.

“Gojo’s nose is bleeding,” Yuji lets you know.

You look at the screen and in fact, do see a dribble of crimson blood running down his nose. Which means he’s probably exhausting his technique and his head.

And Sukuna hasn’t even used any of the ten shadows yet…damn.

“Domain expansion,” Satoru and Sukuna say simultaneously.

“Again,” you mutter.

And just as you came back too!

“They activated it at the same time!” Yuji points out.

“Which means Sukuna can restore his burn-out technique with RCT after all!” Angel interjects, making Kurusu speak after her.

“But has he been able to do that all along, or did he just figure it out?”

“How many times have we said the word cursed technique today?” Yuji muses, making you look over at him and laugh softly.

Yuji catches your reaction and can’t keep down his smile.

“Within the three minutes, it takes for Sukuna to destroy Gojo’s domain from the outside…Gojo needs to damage Sukuna to the point where he can no longer maintain his domain,” Kusakabe mentions really melancholy.

“Let’s not talk as if Gojo’s on the ropes,” Shoko argues. “If Sukuna is drawn into unlimited void for even a few seconds, he’ll be incapacitated.”

Your attention piques and you can’t help but chime in hopefully. “Exactly and if he’s able to destroy Malevolent shrine within three minutes Satoru will win.”

It’s really some high hopes, but you trust Satoru more than anything.

“You really think so?” Yuji asks with doubt laced with fear.

You draw out a deep breath and turn your head to meet his gaze and nod with a confident look to comfort his nerves. “I know it. It may not happen right now, but I know it’s possible. Not only because Satoru is strong, but Sukuna is overconfident. In a situation like this, overconfidence can lead to your demise with a simple mistake you make.”

Yuji’s eyes return to the screen to watch the black barrier floating in the sky. “Hm, I have noticed overconfidence leads to mistakes.”

“Not that it’s bad, it can be a good thing to be overconfident, you just can’t leave out any details, do you get what I’m saying?” You explain yourself and lean towards him. “Like you can’t doubt the weakest player, always think like they have something up their sleeve even if they don’t. Be aware.” You say and then lift your head to speak loud. “That’s why I beat Kusakabe in a card game, he doubted my skills!”

Yuji looks over and Choso’s eyes snap at the man you dragged in the conversation.

“You cheated!” Kusakabe shouts back, making you look at Yuji and shake your head.

“I milked him dry, he's just a sore loser. Get over it man it’s been two months!”

“You’re already rich, why did you need more money?” Kusakabe grumbles.

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. “It’s not about the money, it’s about the gloating I got to do afterward. And it’s about winning too.”

“I told you that you shouldn't have played against her,” Hakari interjects with a smirk.

You smirk now too and catch Kusakabe grumbling. This time you can’t counter because the domain breaks and both men are sliding back on their feet when they land. Only one has his face wounded and that’s Sukuna.

Way to go Satoru!

“Again simultaneously!!” Kusakabe shouts.

“Keeping us on the edge of our seats,” Mei-Mei says.

“I mean, this is just…” Choso trails off.

“Any more of these domains and one of them will give out,” you say and drop your hands to lean forward and slouch.

“Satoru needs to—” Choso cuts himself off as those two damn words are announced again.

“Domain expansion!”

You let out a frustrated huff and lean back to grab Choso’s hand since you’ll be left in the dark again.

“Just now!!” Okkotsu exclaims as the domain turns small again.

“Ah,” Higuruma utters.

“What's up?” Hakari questions Okkotsu’s outburst.

“Maybe, just maybe Gojo expanded his domain an instant earlier?” Okkotsu says.

Hopefully. Just hopefully.

You sit up as you can’t handle your nerves and use your other hand to pick up the cup and try to drink your tea. However, you’re too worried so you just put it against your lips and watch, while Choso tightens his hold against yours to provide as much comfort as he can at the moment.

Nevertheless, only a couple of seconds later the domain breaks and your heart sinks a little when you see the Zenin’s pride and joy, Mahoraga looking down at your brother.

“No,” you gasp quietly.

“Cursed technique reversal,” you hear your brother try to counter, but Mahoraga seems to easily deflect that technique and swings down his mighty blade and breaks the ground Satoru jumped away from in time.

“What?!” Satoru exclaims.

“That’s Mahoraga!” Someone exclaims.

“So that’s the crown jewel of the Zen’in clan,” Mei-Mei muses with what you detect is awe.

Awe for a beast that can—

You don’t even want to think about it.

“It’s a shikigami with the ability to adapt to any attack,” Choso says.

“You’re saying it was even able to adapt to unlimited void?!” Yuji blurts his question.

“Of course, it can,” Mei-Mei responds, making you draw in a deep frustrated breath before you clench your jaw and your hands.

“He’ll get rid of it,” Choso tries to assure you. “I’m sure of it.”

You shake your head stiffly and contradict the hope you just shared mere minutes ago. “No, you don’t know that,” you snap back. “You don’t know anything.”

You slip your hand off Choso’s and stand up to continue watching the fight in your fuming irritation.

.

.

.

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A/N- It feels like these past few weeks have flown by!!

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

#fanfiction #damn-stark #sugar #jjk #jjk fanfiction #chapter 33 #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #choso #choso kamo #choso x fem!reader #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x gojo!reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x female reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x sister!reader #kirara hoshi #hakari kinji #hajime kashimo #yuji itadori #kusakabe atsuya #larue jjk #miguel jjk #shoko ieiri

[mothxmoons]

Hi! May I request Wesker x reader but in the medieval period?

The reader is a maiden serving Lord Wesker, and she lives in his luxurious house. He doesn’t have a spouse cause he has his eyes on her, but she’s too shy, which makes her unapproachable.

Thank you and have a wonderful day!✨

:3 i love medieval aus

Lord Wesker was a terrifying man. Rich, powerful and handsome, and an ambition to one day be king. Many women wished to be his wife, and many others to be his spouse. However he only wished for one person to be his spouse, his love, you. His eyes were set on you. You were just another person in his home. A servant at best in the hierarchy. And yet he wanted you as his spouse, no one else could fill that role.

There was one problem. You were painfully shy. It was very hard for you to look him in the eye, or anyone for that matter. He’d always ask for you and you alone. He didn’t care much for other people flirting with him, but he did love that when he flirt with you, you’d turn a lovely shade of red before finishing your duties and scurrying off.

In all honesty it only made you more desirable to him. Lord Wesker turned down so many marriage offers to pursue you, though you’d have no idea. You could barely get out two words around him. He thought you were adorable and wanted to know more about you, he wanted to see you open up. He wanted you to be comfortable around him. That takes time but he was willing to do it for you, no matter many more marriage proposals come his way. He just wanted you by his side as his spouse and no one else could fit that mold but you. He didn’t even want to try the other suitors, he only wanted you. You and your shy demeanor, he loved it. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you softly and give you the life you deserved.

Typically Lord Wesker was rather cruel and blunt with other people he didn’t care for, servants, other lords and ladies, he showed respect for the king and royal family, but deep down he didn’t like them either. The only person he was kind to was you, a lighter voice, a softer tone, kinder words. The other servants took notice, some would tease you, others hated you for it. But they were swiftly dealt with the second they decided to say something or dare to try and do something. That made it known to the other servants that their jobs and lives were in the line if they even dared to think about you in a negative light. Wesker made it known to you that he was pursuing you romantically, and asked that you stop all your chores that you did around the mansion. He wanted you as his spouse, and his spouse should be living in the lap of luxury, you should be living in the lap of luxury.

This caused some backlash from other nobles, them wanting him to marry a noble, their daughters, and try to get in good with the lord. But those families never lasted long, their greed for money would always end up being their own downfall. Whether or not Wesker had a hand in it was never clear. Many other noble women were also quite mad about it as well, wanting him to themselves.

But that never mattered to you. You never had this kind of love come to you and honestly…you didn’t want to give it up for some snooty entitled noble girl. And he didn’t either.

It might be a long way to be truly comfortable around him. But if he truly wanted to pursue you romantically, then who were you to say no? Especially when you’ve been crushing on him since you arrived on the estate.

#asks! #albert wesker x reader #resident evil x reader #wesker x reader

[riality-check]

Contrary to what her felon of a husband started telling her when the honeymoon phase of their relationship ended, Rebecca Munson is not a stupid bitch.

Well, she’s definitely a bitch, but she ain’t stupid. She’s made bad choices - letting herself get pressured into a shotgun wedding at sixteen to a man five years her senior, havin’ a baby at seventeen at home because she couldn’t afford a hospital, and too many failed attempts at sobriety to count don’t look too good on paper - but she ain’t stupid.

She knew the second that the cops came to their house at two in the damn morning to pick up John that he wasn’t comin’ back. She decided then, after ten G-d awful years of living with him, that she wasn’t comin’ back either.

Her family was across state lines and didn’t much like her since the wedding. But Wayne was two towns over and said to her, over and over again, that his door was always open.

(One Fourth of July, probably when Eddie was six or so, before John realized he wasn’t going to have a little football-loving clone and still humored him by playing tag, Wayne was a few beers in and told Rebecca, point blank, that she deserved to be doing so much better.

“But he’s your brother,” she said, pointedly not looking at the can in Wayne’s hand. It was her first try at staying away from that stuff, and she lasted a full two weeks until her next fight with John.

“That’s how I know you could be doin’ better than him,” Wayne said, taking a sip of his beer. “You’re a good woman, Becca. He ain’t a good man.”

Sometimes, she wondered what her life would be like if she listened to him then, if she didn’t need an arrest warrant to convince her of what she knew, deep in her soul, the second she said “I do.”)

So, that’s where she’s standing now. In front of Wayne’s door, hand poised to knock, Eddie at her side with his headphones on and music cranked loud.

“It’s fuckin’ freezin’,” she murmurs before knocking lightly.

“It’s August, Ma,” Eddie says. Not meanly, but not nicely either. He just says it.

Rebecca almost misses when he was little and tried to warm her up by rubbing his baby palms up and down her arms. She doesn’t miss when he had to call an ambulance for her. She definitely misses when he used to call her “Mama.”

She knocks again. Waits. Tries not to shiver because Wayne will know what that means, and she can’t take pity or rage right now.

She’s fucking trying. This is her trying, this is her quitting, this is her, hopefully, staying sober. 

She doesn’t have John, shitty as he was, to fall back on anymore. Eddie needs her, all of her, so she needs to stay present.

The door opens a crack, then fully. Wayne stands there in his pajamas, sipping on a mug of coffee, looking surprised but not quite.

“John got arrested,” Rebecca says.

Eddie just nods, picks up his bag, and walks right on inside.

Wayne raises his eyebrows. “You know what for?”

“Second degree murder.”

“Jesus H. Christ.”

“And I ain’t payin’ for a lawyer for his sorry ass, so he’ll get some court-appointed schmuck, get sent to hell, and hopefully stay there,” she says brightly.

Wayne snorts and holds the door open for her.

His trailer is small, but they make it work. Eddie gets the bedroom, a notion which he puts up a losing fight to, Rebecca takes a cot they set up in the living room, and Wayne takes the couch. She offers to alternate nights with him, but he waves her off and says it’s fine, it’s comfy enough.

If Wayne liked women (Christmas, 1971, spiked eggnog heavy on the spiked all responsible for her knowing that bit of information) she should’ve married him instead.

He tells her, spotting old track marks and the tooth she lost last winter, that she better not bring any of that shit into the house.

It helps, though maybe not as much as it should. It means she has to rely more on chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking the beer Wayne likes than the variety of harder shit she’s been on and off of since she was seventeen.

Once again, fuck you John Munson.

It doesn’t quell the itch. The first few weeks at Wayne’s are hellish, between the sweats and the shaking and the dry heaving.

But all she has to do is look over at the door to Eddie’s room and remind herself that if she fucks up the same way she’s fucked up countless times throughout her boy’s life, then he has no one.

It’s just barely enough. She’s still drinking way more than she should, enough to not remember when or where she falls asleep, but it’s the longest she’s been off crank, so. Small wins.

She gets a job waitressing at the diner next door to the barber and across the street from the hardware store. It pays alright, and the farmers and miners tip her better if she leaves the first two buttons of her blouse undone.

Men.

Eddie ain’t doin’ much better. The kids at his school are mean sons of bitches, the kind that yank on his hair - he’s always liked it long, and Rebecca really doesn’t give a shit what it looks like as long as it’s clean - and slap his things out of his hands and make fun of the books he reads.

But he’s angry at the world, and he doesn’t take shit from anybody. They leave him alone soon enough, after a couple of fights Rebecca doesn’t blame him for getting into. Between the time he bit a boy’s shoulder after he punched Eddie and called him a fag, and the rumors about his music making him a Satanist - ridiculous, it’s just noise - they give him a wide berth.

He says it’s fine, but Rebecca knows. That boy thrives bein’ around people. Loneliness could kill him straight out.

It’s Wayne who keeps him alive. They fight like hell those first few weeks, the worst of it being when Eddie throws the salt shaker at him and screams about him not being his father.

There’s a new shaker, filled up to the brim, on the table the next day. She checks Eddie’s piggy bank while he’s at school and finds it, predictably, empty.

He’s a good kid. G-d knows if she was in his situation, she’d be angry, too.

Wayne tries to be involved. Tries talking about sports and hunting and other things Eddie doesn’t give a rat’s ass about. When Eddie goes on about the books he reads and the games he plays, Wayne’s face just goes blank.

In the end, it’s the music that does it. Rebecca spends weeks smoking and drinking and walking on eggshells only to find Wayne and Eddie on the couch, hunched over an acoustic guitar and listening to Johnny Cash.

She breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s better after that. There are fewer fights. The trailer is filled with music more often than not. Eddie makes friends.

And, after about a year and a half, Rebecca starts lookin’ to leave.

She’d love to stay here, but she can’t. Wayne was kind enough to take her in, but there ain’t no way in hell she and Eddie can stay forever. It’s time for them to get their own place, to get out of Wayne’s hair, to make a real, permanent life somewhere.

She looks around town, but there aren’t many places to rent, and the ones that can be rented are too expensive for her.

Eddie has been begging for her to let him go get a job, but she keeps putting her foot down. He didn’t get to be a kid when he was one, not with him always taking care of her and taking care to stay out of his father’s way, so he gets to be one now.

She owes him that much and more. So much more.

After a few months, she finds it. It’s a little ad in the paper, so small she almost missed it.

Honey Haven. Five miles outside Hawkins, Indiana. A newly planned, family-friendly community. All are welcome!

The number next to “prices as low as” catches her attention. She dials the phone number, and the sweetest lady picks up, patiently answering all her questions.

It sounds too good to be true. Rebecca tells the lady as much, and she, without hesitation, offers a no strings attached visit.

So, she figures, What the hell?

Part 1, part 2

#ria writes #eddie munson #wayne munson #rebecca munson #i'm making it a tag bitches #stranger things #st #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #this is cult shit babes #have fun #tw cult #tw alcoholism #tw drug addiction

[venusthepirate]

like any unloved thing part four : opera house

ao3 / part one / part two / part three

here’s chapter four ! thank you all for your comments, you guys are the best ! hope you’ll like this chapter ;)

Masterlist : @avocado-writing @little-sunflower-bug @evangelineflowers @humbug5 @yume904 @sarcastic-sourwolf @chloeforde @illusionsnfantasies @cupofstarss​ 

Tangerine doesn’t call, so Fawn doesn’t either.

Maybe she ought to. Only to claim the money he didn’t pay her, but she doesn’t even want to speak to him. She’s not sure if she even wants to see him again. She’s sure even less that he ever wants to see her again.

She tries to understand, at first, what could have warranted such a reaction, but she can’t come up with any rational explanation. He had told her he didn’t want sex. He had told her it wasn’t because she was a hooker, but maybe it was.

Eventually incomprehension and sadness melts into anger and resentment. She throws the bowl of tangerines in the trash. She can’t bear to look at it anymore.

The intensity of her rage surprises her. It only makes her even more furious. He was just a client. One with a strange request, and who didn’t treat her like some merchandise or piece of meat, but in the end, still a client. So what ? Maybe she had liked his company more than she anticipated. He had treated her like a normal person. No, not just like a normal person, more like… like she was his friend.

Fawn didn’t have many friends. Something told her he didn’t either.

She thought she’d found someone like her.

Fuck him, anyway. She wishes he would call, just so she can turn him away. Men are assholes. Fawn deserves better than them.

She puts him at the back of his mind, the longer she doesn’t hear anything from him. November morphs into December, and then she’s a few hours away from the gala. She takes a long bath, smokes a little to help relieve her nerves. Then, she spends the remaining time getting ready, braiding her hair up in an elaborate bun. The makeup she does is discreet. Men like Kenneth Hall wants their women to be elegant, without overdoing it. They want her to be naturally pretty.

She carefully slips on the dress she had bought with Violet, puts on a necklace full of rich brown gems around her neck, along with matching earrings. She looks at her reflection then.

She looks like a rich woman. Someone powerful and confident. Someone who only eats at three-star restaurants, who would own a jacuzzi and a large, lavish penthouse.

Good. That’s who she needs to be tonight. Someone people will look at with envy and admiration. They will look at her client and wonder how such a man came to have her at his arm.

She’s no stranger to this type of things. At first she had been unsure, uncomfortable under the weight of their stares, and like vultures, they had preyed on that lack of confidence. They could sense her discomfort, and they treated her accordingly, full of condescendence and disdain. She’d learned this special kind of dance then, how to speak, how to stand and how to walk.

Escort jobs are something entirely more difficult than sex, she learned, at the time. But they brought far more money than anything, and she didn’t have to actually do anything with them. They mostly wanted company, someone elegant enough and with conversation. An arm candy, would be an accurate description of it.

She shoots off a text to Violet, who informs her she’s almost at the gala. Apparently, whoever hired her sent a limo just for her. Fawn is impressed.  

Her own client comes to pick her up at the location she’s given him, a few streets away from her apartment. She doesn’t give him her real address, and waits on the curb until a slick, elegant black car pulls up in front of her. She gets inside, greets her client with a smile and a light kiss on the cheek when she sits down next to him in the back of the car.

He makes small talk with her during the drive, jovial and seemingly delighted to speak with her. Fawn lets him lead the conversation, asks the appropriate questions at the right times, prompts him into talking about him and whatever he does for a living. Men like him just want an attentive ear, someone to listen to them and act genuinely interested in what they say.

She lets him chatter away until the car finally slows down to a stop. She steals a look outside. The building they have stopped in front of is huge, high, full of long marble columns and large windows. She thinks it might be a museum or an art gallery, from m what she had remembered. She’s never come to this place before, at least not on jobs.

Ever the gentleman, her client opens her door and offers her his arm. She loops her elbow with his and follows him up the stairs and inside. She tries to look for Violet in the crowd of people ascending the stairs, scrutinizing the flock of elegant suits and dazzling dresses for a purple dress, but doesn’t see her. Maybe she already arrived and is just inside.

The inside, when she finally gets there, is magnificent. There are crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, soft classical music playing. Kenneth gives her a champaign flute before guiding her towards other people. Most of the guests here have already mingled, forming small groups of whispers and fake, polite small talk. Fawn is content to follow the client’s lead and offer greetings when necessary, nod and smile. She lies when people ask her questions about herself.

She discreetly sends another text to Violet asking her where she is. Her phone buzzes with an answer a few minutes later.

Violet : just on your left.

Fawn looks around herself, and finally spots her. She’s standing close to a man who must be in his forties. His hand is around her waist, and he’s busy talking to another man in front of him.

Fawn : everything alright ?

Violet : a bit off. Check in 20 min ?

Fawn : sure

She watches them for a bit longer, trying to get some kind impression on the man. He looks like every white business man she’s ever encountered, suave and well-spoken, but she knows better than anyone what can hide under the expensive suit. In her experience, men like him are more likely to be fucking creeps than anyone else.

At least he isn’t so old. Her own client must be double her age.

She looks a bit more at the people around. Tangerine is the farthest thing on her mind.

Up until she sees him.

He’s standing a few feet away from her, in a suit, as always, hair slicked back. He’s holding a flute of champaign too, taking the occasional sip as he talks to a couple.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck.

She really shouldn’t be as surprised as she feels. The man wears three-pieces suits, for God’s sake, of course he’s going to be present at this sort of thing. But, fuck. She didn’t expect him to be here.

She’s so stunned that she doesn’t think of doing something smart, like maybe hiding so he doesn’t see her, or at least pretending that she isn’t staring at him.

He must have felt the weight of her gaze on him, because he looks up from his conversation, and his eyes find hers.

Fuck.

His eyes widen when he recognizes her. He doesn’t seem to have been expecting her either.

She watches as he says something to the couple, and then starts making his way towards her. Fucking fuck. She can’t talk to him right now. Not just because of what happened. She’s with a client, and they generally don’t take it well to meet another client. Men are like fucking peacocks sometimes. They so desperately want to be unique.

Fawn tells Kenneth that she needs to go to the bathroom, and slips away in the crowd before Tangerine can catch up with her. She doesn’t bother checking if he’s seen her walking away. She quickly sneaks away through people until she finally finds a bathroom. She lets the door shut closed behind her with a sigh of relief. The washroom is empty.

She approaches the sink, and looks at her reflection. She feels like something just unraveled her, but she’s surprised to see that she looks like the same. She expected… a crack. Something. Anything.

She rummages through her purse for a lipstick. She hears the door being opened, and when she glances up in the mirror, she sees Tangerine step inside.

She freezes.

“You’re in the wrong place”, she tells him. “This is the lady’s room.”

His jaw ticks.

“What are you doing here ?” He asks, not bothering to react to her previous statement. His stance is tense. Fawn feels on edge. She doesn’t trust him. Maybe she did, before, but not any longer.

“I’m on a job”, she answers, curtly.

“On a job”, he repeats.

She glares at him, now getting annoyed.

“Yes, with a client. So I would appreciate it you didn’t talk to me, Tangerine. You can’t just fucking walk up to me and start a conversation.”

He seems startled by her words.

“Look”, he says, hesitantly. “I… I’m sorry about last time.”

She snorts, shaking her head. There’s a bitter taste on her tongue.

“Last time ? You mean when you ran away after we kissed ? Or do you mean when you didn’t pay me ?”

He at least has the decency to look ashamed. He looks away.

“Fuck, look, I completely forgot, alright ?” He’s twisting his rings around his fingers, back and forth. She’s noticed him doing it every time he was unsure or stressed.  

“I’m so glad one of us could”, she retorts. “That’s not something I can afford to forget, you know ?”  

“I’ll pay you, alright ?” He offers. “I’ll pay you how much you want. I can do it now, or next time, if you want.”

Fawn raises an eyebrow at him in the reflection of the mirror.

“Next time”, she repeats. “Yeah, not sure if I want a next time with a client who is one bad day away not paying me.”

He frowns.

“I’m sorry, yeah ? I really am. How long do you want me to fucking apologize for ?”

She turns around to face him. The contrite look is gone, now. He seems… annoyed. A bit desperate.

“I’m a real person, Tangerine.”

His frown deepens even more.

“Of course I fucking know that you’re a real-“

“No, I’m not sure you do”, Fawn cuts him off. “Just because you’re paying me doesn’t mean you can take me for granted. I cancel other clients for you, you get drunk while meeting with me, I tell you no and you call me on my phone. I’m not some fucking object you throw away when you’re done playing with it.”

His jaw ticks again. He rakes a hand through his hair.

“You kissed me”, he says.

Ah. So, he finally addresses it.

Fawn crosses her arms on her chest. The lights from above her head are starting to hurt her eyes.

“Yes.”

“I told you I didn’t want sex.”

“It was a fucking kiss, Tangerine”, she retorts, anger settling inside her chest. “Not a proposition. I was high. A simple no would have been enough.”

“Yeah, well, seemed a bit fucking difficult to tell at the time.”

She glares at him. He doesn’t shy away from her gaze this time, blue eyes staring right back at her.

“You kissed me back, if I remember correctly.”

“You know what, fuck you. I’m trying to apologize here and you’re acting like a fucking bitch.”

His words are like a cold shower. He seems to catch on his words too, as if they’ve escaped him, because he closes his eyes and sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sure”, she says, closing her bag, not looking at him anymore.

“Fawn, wait, that wasn’t…” He tries, but she doesn’t want to listen to other pathetic excuses.

“Goodbye, Tangerine”, she tells him, final, and leaves the bathroom before he can argue.

She doesn’t bother checking if he follows her.

Fucking asshole.

That’s the problem with men like him. They’re just needy fucking things, and the minute they’re not given what they want, here they go, throwing tantrums and hurling insults.

It hurts a bit, though, even if Fawn pretends it doesn’t. She hadn’t expected his words to wound her.

She fishes her phone out of her bag, checks the time. Shit, it’s been more than twenty minutes, she forgot to check on Violet. Fucking Tangerine and his pathetic excuse for an apology.

She sends a text asking her if everything’s alright, but five minutes later there’s still no answer.

Worry starts churning at her stomach. She tries looking in the main room. She sees, in the distance, her own client, but there’s no trace of either Violet or her client. After circling the room a few times, she calls, but no one picks up.

Fuck. Fuck, okay.

She opens the Find my phone app. Violet seems to be still inside the building, which is a relief.

Fawn tries to follow the little red dot on her phone indicating Violet’s position. She goes through a few corridors, getting farther away from the main room where the guests are. The corridors are empty, and her heels echo against the marble floor.

She hears voices.

“Fuck off, you fucking-”, she hears a female voice say, and then there’s a sharp sound, like a slap.

Fawn rounds a corner and then freezes.

Violet is on the ground, holding her head, and her client, William fucking something, is standing over her.

“Hey !” Fawn yells. She rushes to Violet’s side, careful not to get too close to the man.

“She just tripped, everything’s alright”, the man says, but Fawn is no fool.

There’s something off about him. His voice is cold, and she can see that his fist is clenched. Pure, unaltered rage fills her lungs. She’s almost surprised that she can still breathe through it.

She stays calm, for Violet’s sake.

“He fucking hit me”, Violet retorts, spitting blood on the ground.

“C’me on, we’re leaving”, Fawn reassures her, helping her stand up.

“No, she’s not leaving. I fucking paid for her, she’s staying right here until I’m done with her.”

Fawn ignores him, but when they pass in front of him, he grabs Violet’s arm and pulls her brutally towards him.

It all goes to hell after that.

Fawn tries to get him off Violet, but he pushes her down on the ground. Her back hurts from the force of the fall, and by the time she gets up, Violet hits him in the face. He screams insults at her, punches her, and Violet crumbles on the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

He kicks at her ribs, twice, before Fawn is on him, managing to send both of them on the floor. She tries to get back up to get the upper hand on him, but she’s not fast enough. There’s a sudden pain in her head, blinding and nerve-wracking. She blinks against the sharpness of it, trying to make sense of what is happening. She feels like her head is being split open. There’s a bitter, metallic taste on her tongue. Blood.

She’s lying on the ground, staring at the ceiling. Everything is whirling around her, as if the world has tilted from its axis.

After what seems like an insurmountable effort, she sits up, fighting against the vertigo and nausea. Through her blurred vision, she sees him, straddling Violet. His hands are around her neck, as her legs scramble on the floor, trying to push him off.

The fury that fills her takes her by surprise. She doesn’t even think about it, about any of it. Her purse is on the ground, and, almost as if she’s on automatic pilot, her fingers close around the handle of her switchblade.

What follows is a blur. Something snaps inside of her, and the rage and anger wash over her in white waves, obscuring her vision. She acts on pure instinct then.

The next thing she knows is a gush of warmth, something wet, spraying over her hands and chest, as she pulls the switchblade free out of the man’s neck.

He immediately collapses on the floor, making choking noises, like he’s swallowed his own tongue. Violet scrambles away from him.

Blood, dark and vivid, pools underneath him, tainting the pristine marble floor. She watches, distantly, as he bleeds out and eventually stills.

She feels like she’s been plunged underwater, like she’s watching this whole scene from miles away.

“Oh my God”, Violet says, voice shaking badly. It pulls Fawn out of her trance. “Oh my God, he’s, he’s fucking dead.”

She killed a man. She just killed a man.

“I-I can’t”, Violet sobs. “I can’t go to jail, my sister… Oh my God, we killed him.”

“No”, Fawn cuts her, quietly. “No, I killed him.”

Violet stares up at her, tearfully. Fawn kneels down next to her, in spite of the blood now wetting the hem of her dress.

“Violet, you gotta leave, alright ?” She tells her, without any hesitation.

“What do you mean ?” Violet asks. She’s trembling so badly her teeth are almost chattering. Fawn presses her forehead against hers.

“Listen to me”, she murmurs. “I killed him, alright ? I killed him. This is on me. Go home. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen to you.”

“But…”

“I killed him”, Fawn repeats, final. “You can’t go to jail, you said it yourself. I’ll take care of this. Just go.”

Violet finally nods, tears streaming down her face. She gets up, and seems to hesitate for a brief moment, before she’s hurrying down the corridor, disappearing around the corner.

Fawn stares at the corpse of the man. She’s then acutely aware of the blood on her own face, on the skin of her neck, on her hands. She’s still clutching the knife tightly in her palm.

Fuck.

Fuck, okay.

She needs to move the body. At least hide it so that no one will see it if they pass through the corridor. She’ll think about what to do then.

She breathes in, deeply. The rage that had run through her is long gone, now. She feels empty without it, cold. She can feel her fingers shaking.

There’s the sound of footsteps, coming closer. Fawn looks up, heart thundering inside her chest. Fuck. She’s kneeling down next to a dead body, covered in blood, holding the murder weapon. She’s the murderer.

This is how Tangerine finds her.

#tangerine #tangerine fic #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #lemon and tangerine #bullet train #bullet train fanfic #bullet train fic #bullet train tangerine

[feyhunter78]

Hey it’s me El! Can I have an aegon x apprentice fic where she’s an apprentice dragon trainer person who is the only one other than himself who sunfyre tolerates but aegon doesn’t know that so just stumbles onto her giving his dragon head scratches and praising it so much. Leads into some heavy banter and hardcore flirting. They do this for a while but when he suggests having sexy times on that very floor (all hail slut aegon) She refuses to bed him as he’s married to Helaena and she’s her friend so she could never do that to her. Reader does kiss him though so the two can have one hint of what they could’ve had if he wasn’t married. Only now aegon has had a taste he can’t stop now so he’s walking determined to helaena and alicent to request he take her as a second wife like his namesake did.

El! I took a little writing break yesterday, but I'm back now!!! Here is the latest, and *spiciest* addition to our Apprentice!reader series!!!!

Dragon Tamer

Ever since you were a child, you had been fascinated with dragons. Reading anything and everything you could get your hands on, vying to be at the front of the crowd whenever a royal would land their dragon, and teaching yourself High Valyrian. It was thanks to this dedication that you were here now, cooing over Sunfyre as you inspected the golden dragon’s front two fangs.

You had noticed Sunfyre’s reluctance to snap at his food with his normal ferocity, and now was applying a healing salve to his gums.

“Poor dear, how did no one notice this cut?” You asked, as you finished applying the salve and Sunfyre shut his jaw, letting you scratch his snout.

He blew steam at you and made a happy purr as you continued stroking and scratching his snout, whispering praises in High Valyrian to him.

“I must admit my surprise.” The voice of Prince Aegon rang out, and you stepped away from Sunfyre turning to face the silver haired man.

“Apologies, my prince, you cannot take Sunfyre out at this time. His jaw is healing, and I fear he might attempt to eat during the flight and aggravate the wound.” You said, bowing your head as Aegon came closer.

There was a look of grave concern on Aegon’s face that you had never seen before. “He is injured? How?”

“A cut on his upper gums.” You tapped Sunfyre’s maw, and he opened it, showing off the reddened cut.

Aegon began whispering to Sunfyre in High Valyrian, stroking his side. “And what is being done?”

“I have already applied a healing salve, it will take a few days, but soon he should be right as rain.” You reassured him.

Aegon visibly relaxed, and Sunfyre lumbered further into his cave and settled down to sleep. “Thank you, Lady?”

“Y/N.” You said. “I am newer to the dragonpit, but I promise you I am more than capable.”

He nodded, a curious look in his eyes. “I see that. Sunfyre is usually not fond of anyone but me.”

You had heard the rumors that Sunfyre would only listen to his rider, but after some persistence and a lot of praises whispered in Valyrian you soon gained the dragon’s respect. Now his rider on the other hand… You’d never met Prince Aegon before, only heard stories from your dear friend Helaena, she did not despise him, but she longed for a gentler soul to be her husband. You mourned with her in that aspect. You doubted you would be able to marry someone you loved, either.

“He is a beautiful creature who deserves respect, and I learned is quite fond of snout scratches.” You smiled and glanced towards the sleeping Sunfyre,

Aegon stepped closer to you. “He, like his rider, seems to have a weakness for exceptionally beautiful women.”

Ah, there was the flirting, you supposed you should have expected it, but it still caught you off guard. Aegon was very handsome, and you would be lying if you said you had not wondered what it might be like to be beside the man who rode such a magnificent dragon. What it might be like to be a princess.

You turned. “That is very kind of you to say.”

“No returning compliment for your prince?” He asked, a teasing smile on his face.

That smile, you wished to wipe it off, to instead feel those lips against your skin. To hear that voice, call out your name in the moment of pure ecsta— You cut yourself off and blinked at him, mind reeling. You must keep yourself together.

He stepped closer, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger, lavender eyes burning into you. “You are able to tame my dragon and yet the cat seems to have caught your tongue?”

“You are handsome, my prince.” You forced out, face hot as he moved even closer.

“Merely handsome? Not very, or extraordinarily?” He teased, tugging on your lock of hair.

You looked around, no one else was here. A boldness grew in you and you looped your arms around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. “What would you like me to say my prince? That you are handsome beyond measure, and that I wait beside Sunfyre every day hoping you will come to see him, and find me as well?”

“I would not be opposed to it.” He said, hands dropping to your waist.

“Or?” You batted your eyelashes up at him. “Perhaps you would like to hear of how I dream of you, storming in and grabbing me. Your hands mapping my skin, heated lips leaving marks for everyone to see.”

Aegon’s pupils were blown wide, and he pulled you closer, one hand wandering up to your bodice, groping the soft flesh. “I would very much like to hear that.”

You pressed yourself closer, practically whispering in his ear. “You would? You would like to hear how in my dreams, you press me against the wall, hand covering my mouth as you rut into me, giving me the pleasure I know only a prince is capable of giving.”

He lowered his head, nose brushing against yours, his voice low. “Not just a prince, this prince, only I can satisfy you.”

“Yes, only you.” You echoed, fingers tugging lightly at his thick silver strands.

“Only I can satisfy you, you who Sunfyre adores, the most beautiful woman in all the realms, you have tamed him.” He moaned, grinding his hips into you, his hardness pressing against your lower stomach.

“Perhaps that means I would be a good dragonrider.” You said, gasping when his fingers snuck under your bodice and began claiming the flesh.

“You would be, I have no doubt. Let me take you here, now, and we shall see if you can tame me as well.” His lips brushed against yours as he attempted to lower you both to the ground. “Gods, I wish for you to tame me, my Rhaenys, touch me.” His hand brought yours to his clothed cock, as he moaned your name, hips still moving against you.

You stopped him and pushed away. “You are married, and Princess Helaena is a friend of mine, I will not betray her in such a way.” Your core was thrumming, and your bodice was halfway pulled down, it would be so easy, but you shook yourself from your lust.

Aegon stood there, loss and confusion clear on his face. “But—she will never know; I swear to you.”

You shook your head and straightened your clothing, looking down at the stone floor. “No, my prince.” You said firmly, your heart beating frantically in your chest, and your face hot as dragonfire.

He whined, and your eyes shot up to his. “Y/N, do not deprive me of you, not just as I have found you.”

You bit your lip, then stepped forward and pressed them lips to his. He tastes of citrus, oranges you recognize, and you have to hold his hands away from you, as your lips move against his.

He whines once more when you pull away, and you brush back a strand of his hair. “Let that serve as our hint of what could have been. Take it and go back to your wife or your whore houses, you will not find relief in me.” You turn away and disappear down the hall.

Aegon pushed his way through the keep until he came to his mother’s chambers. Helaena would be there as well, he knows it. He barged in, and stood in front of them, determination clear in his gaze. “I will marry y/n, from the dragonpit, she has tamed Sunfyre, and I will not ignore a clear sign from the gods.”

“Aegon, you are already married.” His mother reminded him.

“My namesake had two wives, one for duty and one for desire, I shall have the same.” He looked to Helaena. “Sister, y/n says she is your friend, she refused my advances out of loyalty to you. Allow me to take her as well, and I swear to you, I will never darken your doorstep again.”

Helaena was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Let she who tames into the home, and the hearth will not overflow, the flames will not ravage the rooms.”

His mother sighed, but he was already out the door, ready to reunite with his own Rhaenys.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot

#Gosh am I fucking with Aegon calling the reader his Rhaenys like wow #why was that so hot to me #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #prince aegon #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #apprentice!reader #thanks for the request! #I hope you like it!!! #meg's writing #hotd #hotd fanfic #aegon ii x y/n #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #he's so pathetic and i love it #anon request #mail from el

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER SEVEN

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given a choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter warnings/tags: mentions of underage sex work

Words in this chapter: 3,100

Author’s notes: Allegedly, the Dean v. Dean scene from “Dream A Little Dream Of Me” was supposed to be John v. Dean but JDM couldn’t make the schedule work. That got me thinking about how else I could use that pivotal scene in this AU. You’ll see that scene sort of sprinkled throughout this chapter.

Thanks for your patience as I adjust to my new work schedule. I have the next two chapters as well — they just need some marinating and beta-ing.

Many thanks to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for pre-reads and for being my friends.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I do hope he makes it.” Rowena waves as she, Gabe, Dean, and Meg watch Crowley make his way to the exit.

Crowley turns before walking out the door, tossing Rowena a nod before flipping two backward Peace signs to either side of her, effectively telling Dean, Gabe, and Meg to fuck themselves.

“Rude,” Meg murmurs into her coffee as Gabe wraps an arm around Rowena’s slight shoulders.

“Ya know, Ro, statistically, only three-tenths of us make it,” Gabe says. “So it’s better for us if he doesn’t.” 

Meg does a spit take of coffee while Dean barely keeps his own in his mouth to swallow. “Fuckin’ savage, Gabe,” Dean chuckles, slapping Meg on the back. “Breathe through it, sweetheart.”

“That smarmy dick — affectionate,” Gabe pretends to assure Rowena that the insult is meant with the best of intentions, “deserves the very best.” 

Rowena turns and sniffles into Gabe’s embrace.

There’s a lot of affection within their small group. Dean’s stopped questioning the fraternizing rule, though, because Meg does wonders for the tension in his neck and shoulders with her tiny little hands.

“I’m gonna hit the gym. Anybody wanna join? Dean-o?” Meg tosses her empty cup in the garbage before arching and stretching to make her spine pop and crack.

Part of his recovery from addiction and his injuries is structured and supervised exercises. It’s done nothing for his persistent hard-on, but it helps with boredom, anger, and the satisfaction of succeeding at something, even if it’s not much.

Dean turns his back on Gabe and Rowena’s canoodling. “Sounds good. What time?”

“Ten?” Meg claps her hands together enthusiastically. 

“Yep,” Dean answers, dumping his cup into the trash before they go their separate ways — Meg to the women’s sleeping quarters and Dean to the men’s.

It’s been 10 days since the fire. It feels like weeks to Dean. He read once that it takes 21 days to create a habit and 90 to make it stick. He always thought that seemed arbitrary, but he’s starting to believe it because his day-to-day here is quickly becoming routine.  

When he gets to his room, he finds Jack in bed with Red Hood Arsenal Vol. 1, covered in candy wrappers.

Dean arches a brow as he yanks his drawer open. “You ever get outta bed this mornin’?”

“Not really feeling social today,” Jack murmurs, gnawing on a piece of chocolate and nougat. 

Dean digs around for a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt for the gym. “Well, ya should eat somethin’ real before they close the kitchen.”

He shoves the drawer closed before turning to face his roommate.

Jack keeps his eyes on his comic as he replies. “You’ve only been wearing that sign for a day. Have you already forgotten my eating habits are none of your business?”

Dean drops his eyes to the sign around his neck as he tongues the back of his teeth before roughly grinding them.

“Nope. Haven’t forgotten.” His stomach tightens and flips, and his face starts to heat. “Ya know... I just-”

“Still none of your business.”

Jack’s tone, assertive nature, and blunt words make Dean tense. He wants to yell. Yelling relieves tension for him. Punching things also relieves tension, so Dean decides to keep his mouth shut and get dressed to work out, even if he can only punch with one fist right now.

He passes Billie’s office on his way to the gym. Her door’s open, so he pokes his head inside. “Hey.”

She silently and expectantly looks up from her desk, pen frozen in her hand.

“Just...” Dean juts a thumb over his shoulder as he steps fully into the doorway. “Headed to the gym. Thought I’d say hi.”

Billie raises her eyebrows and chin before nodding. “Well, hi.”

Her less-than-enthused response further agitates him. “Man, I’m just pissin’ everybody off today,” he mutters.

“You’re not pissing me off.” Billie carefully sets her pen aside before pushing her chair away from her desk. “Come in, Dean.”

Dean walks inside, feeling rejected. It’s uncomplicated when he thinks about the reality of the last 15 minutes. These people are practically strangers, Jack’s a 17-year-old kid, and Billie’s a fucking shrink so he shouldn’t give a shit what they think. Yet these perceived slights would’ve sent him straight to a bottle of pills or whiskey and searching for pussy outside these walls.

“Your door was open. I just thought I’d say hi instead of just walkin’ by like you don’t exist.” He walks over to her designated visiting area and takes a seat.

“And that’s very kind of you.” Billie settles in one of her chairs across from him.

“So then why’re you just like ‘hi???’ like I’m annoying you,” he asks.

He fully realizes that he sounds like he’s trying to start a fight, but he does nothing to dial it back.

“You’re not annoying me. I wanted to be sure you didn’t need something first.” She pauses. “Did something happen with Jack or Meg?”

Dean shrugs. “Jack acted like I tried to set his stuffed dragon on fire when I reminded him the kitchen was about to close.”

She isn’t making notes right now, which relieves Dean. “Can you expand on that?” 

“Well, he brought up my stupid-ass sign.” He flicks the sign making it flop against his chest ineffectually.

Billie nods, appearing to also curb a smile of amusement, which lightens his shit mood for some reason. “That’s what the sign’s for, Dean.”

He scoffs. “To repeatedly remind me that I’m a pain in the ass?”

Billie narrows her eyes and sighs. “No. The signs serve many purposes, none of which are to remind you that you’re a pain in the ass. They help maintain boundaries and remind everyone to focus on themselves and their own recovery.”

Dean chews the inside of his cheek. “So, if the 17-year-old kid I’m rooming with starves to death, I’m just supposed to keep my eyes on my own prize.”

He’s being dramatic. He knows he’s being dramatic. It’s a great outlet, though, with the absence of his other sorely missed vices.

“First of all,” Billie begins to count her retorts on her fingers, “Jack isn’t going to starve to death-”

“I’ve never seen him eat anything but candy!” Dean cuts her off with exasperation.

“Dean.” Billie drops her hands in her lap.

“Sorry.”

Expressing his frustrations and regrets isn’t something he’s comfortable doing because he never learned to do it any other way than physically fighting, fucking, or getting wasted. That’s not BIllie’s fault; it’s just facts.

Billie calmly begins again. “He will not starve. Nor will he learn to feed and care for himself adequately if we don’t let him figure that out on his own.”

Dean sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Can’t save everybody,” he mutters.

“Correct,” Billie answers. “What else?”

“I need to focus on my own recovery.”

“Yes.”

He brings his gaze back to hers. “Sorry for...” He waves his hand in the air as an explanation. “Barging in, whining...”

“No apologies necessary. You aren’t whining, you have questions. Bucking the system demonstrates healthy curiosity.” Billie peers at him above the tent of her fingers. “You know, some might assume, as a Marine Corps veteran raised by a Marine Corps veteran that you’d follow orders without a second thought. But you don’t.” 

Dean stares back quietly. He and Billie have made progress. He trusts her to do what she says she’s there to do. The problem right now is she’s probing a scab he isn’t willing to expose.

“Well, I got people who look to me for answers — my team, my kid.”

Billie nods. “Yes. And you’ve amassed a group of people here who also see you as a leader, and as a natural leader, it’s important to be mindful of your intentions and of the impression you leave on others.”

“When you say it like that, I feel like a fuckin’ asshole.”

Billie shakes her head. “You’re not an asshole. Go to the gym.” She motions to his outfit as she stands. “During our scheduled session this afternoon, we can talk more about that.”

As he gets up and walks to the door, Dean’s chest feels heavy even as his heart spits and sputters.

The gym doesn’t help clear his mind or calm his anxiety. He’s stuck in the spiral of memories from his last argument with John. 

“I’ve been back for five days, Dad, can I just get my bearings before you start-”

“Your brother is leaving, and you won’t lift a finger to stop it. All you’ve done is whine about how you’re gonna miss him when he leaves!”

“He got a full ride.”

“And you’re gonna what, help him pack?! Came back from that war as mindless and obedient as an attack dog — good soldier and nothin’ else.”

That’s fucking rich, coming from John, who only ever treated Dean like a soldier. Dean learned so much more about life and relationships over there than John ever taught him.

“That’s not true.”

“No? What else ya got, then, kid? Your car? That’s mine. Your favorite leather jacket? Mine. Your music? Mine.”

John’s ever-panning searchlight of fury has all but lost Sam and is fully focused on Dean. While Dean doesn’t love being under his dad’s scrutiny, he hopes that his presence buys Sam a few more minutes to get his shit together and get out.

“Your entire fuckin’ personality is me and that kid brother of yours.”

Dean’s slumped against the living room wall with his dad looming over him, red-faced, sweating, and spitting rage.

“You’re fuckin’ obsessed with keeping us here. Sam was built for somethin’ better-”

“I’m obsessed?” John rapidly blinks, clutching his left arm. “How the fuck did you handle not havin’ little Sammy on your heels in Afghanistan? You got nothin’ outside of this family, and you know it.”

“You’re fuckin’ drunk and high.” Dean shakes his head and pushes away from the wall. “You need to sit down.”

“Listen here, you ungrateful little shit-”

“Yell all you want, I’m still leaving!” Sam strides into the living room, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.

Dean takes a step forward, and John takes a step back.

“All that shit you dumped on me about protecting Sam? That was your shit.” He pokes a finger into John’s chest. “You’re the one who couldn’t protect your family, and now that we’re adults with our own fucking lives, you can’t handle it.”

“Keep talkin’, asshole.” John is panting heavily, and his face is turning darker red. “You think you know what it’s like to raise a kid-”

“Yeah! I do!” Dean walks John right back to the couch where John drops to sit. “You were never fucking here for Sam, I always was. All you ever did was train me, boss me around — Daddy’s blunt little instrument — I was never your kid.” 

“Oh, please...” John groans, his words slurring as he squeezes his arm harder and he drops his chin to his chest.

“But Sam... Sam you doted on. And now he’s leaving. Talk about what’re you gonna do now, huh? What’re you gonna do, John?”

“Dean...” Sam’s voice is hollow.

“Geez, what happened to you between finally gettin’ rid of that cranky old queen and now?” Meg asks.

Dean breathes and grits his teeth as he mentally counts his wall push-ups. “It’s a whole thing.”

He doesn’t want to get into John with Meg. Not right now. The thought of getting into his history with his dad at all makes him feel like jumping out the window.

Meg furrows her brow and nods. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Dean shoots her a look, thinking she’s teasing him. What he finds when he really takes her in, though, is so raw and delicate that he can barely stand to look at her. 

“Yeah, I’m my own worst nightmare.” He completes his wall exercises and eases to the floor for the rest.

“Don’t do that,” Meg says. She stands over him with her hands on her hips.

Dean tosses his hands in the air in surrender. “I’m kidding. OK?” He starts his hip stretches and the pain carries a signal of satisfaction and success to his brain.

“No, you aren’t.”

Dean groans at the stretch. “What’s with you? This is our thing. The self-deprecation thing.”

Meg sighs and drops to the floor beside him to do some of her own exercises. “Dean, you’re one of our 2.1.”

Dean shakes his head. “What?”

“I did the math; three-tenths of seven is 2.1.”

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes so hard they take his whole body with them. “Are we including Crowley in that seven?” He goes back to carefully lifting and stretching his hips.

“Yeah... better odds for the rest of us that way.” Meg twists her spine so she’s facing Dean with her knees pointing in the opposite direction.

Dean snorts, and Meg chuckles as they watch each other try to get better.

Then her face softens as well as her voice. “You’re gonna make it, Dean. Because you’re a fuckin’ badass.” 

Dean swallows back a lump from trying to form in his throat. 

“You’re here because of a blip.” She rolls her watery eyes. “You are better than this. You’ll come out on the other side stronger because you’re already so strong.”

Dean draws a shallow, shaking breath. “And what about you?” He’s almost afraid to ask, but she doesn’t disappoint.

Meg smirks. “I figured out one thing about this world — just one.” She twists back to lie flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling as she pulls each knee into her chest. “You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life.”

Dean nods, rolling to his side. “Sex work and heroin didn’t give you the kinda order you wanted?”

Meg chuckles and switches knees. “At one time, my pimp’s mission was it for me. But things change, right? We learn, we grow... Now?” She turns her head to look at him again. “My cause is getting sober.”

Dean purses his lips. “So you and I’re the lucky two?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He wishes her insistence that he’s so strong made him feel that way. Instead, he feels like there’s a light shining on his weaknesses. If there was a way for him to be all the good things people claim to know about him and nothing else, maybe he could finally stop hearing his dead dad’s voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he’s worthless. 

“We’ve been here for over an hour.” Meg sighs then rolls away from him, to her side, and up onto her hands and knees. “Let’s go eat and chain-smoke before group.”

She hops to her feet before reaching out a hand to help Dean up. He smiles softly before accepting her offer.

“Do you feel akin to Jack?” Billie asks.

It’s their scheduled session in the afternoon. Dean is exhausted. There’s so much talking and listening and correcting — yourself and others.

“I’m old enough to be the kid’s dad, so I guess? Things’re different than they used to be.” Dean shrugs.

“For who?”

Dean drops his head to the back of the chair and sighs. 

“You’ve had a long day, I know,” Billie says, and Dean rolls his head to the side and peeks at her with one eye. 

“Therapy and recovery aren’t quick and easy.” Billie shakes her head. “If they were, everybody’d do it. Right?”

Dean snorts. “I guess.” He sighs again, this time much less dramatically, then sits up straight in his chair. He clears his throat before moving forward with what he knows he has to talk about.

“Sometimes… we didn’t have what we needed— Sam and I— because Dad was... whatever and wherever, and I did things. For people.”

Billie nods.

Dean is surprised to find her unsurprised by his confession. He thought his juvenile records would be sealed no matter what. Maybe she just knows because she’s a brain doctor.

“I wasn’t a hooker.” 

“OK.”

“I just did what I had to do.”

“I understand.”

“Like the time I stole bread and peanut butter from the 7-Eleven and got thrown into a boys’ home.”

Billie nods.

“And the time I let the PTA president suck my dick for dinner five nights a week for Sam and me.”

Billie narrows her eyes slightly, still listening, still not taking notes.

“Or an extra hundred in cash for clothes for the kid who grew outta mine the second he turned 16 just to let the guy on the corner watch me eat out his wife.”

Dean wipes at his nose and then looks out Billie’s windows. 

“Thank you for telling me, Dean.”

Dean nods and swings his gaze back to Billie. “It’s just... Meg says I’m this badass, gonna pass outta here with flying colors, and Jack... thinks I’m a nag.”

Billie bobs and shakes her head. “No one’s just one thing.”

“Are we having the ‘not everyone is thinking about you all the time’ conversation?”

Billie smiles. “While you were your little brother’s hero, you were someone else’s prey.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, and he looks out the windows again. 

“While your daughter sat broken-hearted on one side of town, you single-handedly carried Cyrus Styne to safety.”

Dean closes his eyes and lets a tear roll down his cheek. “So what’s in between?”

“It’s not about other people’s perceptions.”

Before looking back at her, Dean drags his hand over his face. “Then what’s it about?”

“You had to eat and care for your brother, right?”

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

“What about Emma?”

Dean flicks his gaze up to Billie’s. 

“Do you see a likeness between Emma and the teenage boy you saved from her high school?”

Dean smirks. “Besides the fact that was her high school?”

Billie smiles and nods. “Besides that.”

“You think I’m avoiding her.”

Billie tilts her head. “Are you?”

“Dean. Hi. How are you?”

“Hey, Lydia. I’m... OK. Is Em around? She blocked me on her phone. I really need to talk to her.”

Lydia is quiet on the other end of the line for a beat. “Just a minute, OK?”

Dean watches the clock on the wall above the phone tick by almost a full 60 seconds before Lydia’s phone is unmuted. There’s a bit of muffled shuffling at first, then...

“Hi, Daddy.”

Chapter 8 

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

#au dean winchester #dean winchester is saved

[pixeldistractions]

Jordan brought the boys back home. “Why don’t you boys head upstairs and play a game. Your mom and I need to talk.”

Colette moaned at the idea of it. She turned off the show she was watching.

“Oh, God, I just paid a lot of money for the best massage. Why do I feel like you’re about to destroy my chill?”

“It doesn’t take much to destroy your chill, to be honest,” Jordan said.

Colette held her tongue until she heard the boys turn on their video game.

“What is it now? Rumors are you’re messing around with that blonde skank from your work. So gross. Jordan, your bar is set so low it’s in the sewer. I bet she has all kinds of diseases.”

“I’m not sleeping with Ingrid,” he said.

“Who then?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.”

“Damn right you are. And don’t let the door hit you on the—”

“I mean, I’m leaving. I told the boys already, we talked about it. I’m moving out west.”

“What? Where?”

“Nevada, probably. It’s not definite yet.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Colette, you can’t tell me to leave, then tell me where I can’t go.”

“What about your kids!?”

“Yeah, well, what about them? You aren’t giving me many options. I said I’d take them with me some of the time. You told me no.”

“Wrong. I told you not a chance in hell.”

“So what am I supposed to do? You have to let me see my kids. I guess you’ll decide when and where. Don’t you always get the final say about when and how and everything? Well, I’m sick of it. I’m done.”

“God, I can’t believe this. I can’t believe… What was I thinking? Ugh, I used to want to marry you.”

“You didn’t want to marry me,” he said.

They both sat in a minute of silence, pondering those unfortunate truths. She wanted to marry someone—after all, marriage had wonderful economic benefits—but she wouldn’t have picked him if she had any other choice. He didn’t want to marry her, either. They had it right ten years ago when they got knocked up and decided that they should definitely not be a couple.

“Why couldn’t you just be normal? Why do you have to be such a freeloading loser?”

Colette mused this out loud. Not exactly at him, but almost as if she were speaking it to herself.

“You were supposed to get a real job and find some ambition and stop living like a hobo, and all of this could have been different. How did I get myself into this? What have I done? I’m gonna be thirty-two years old. I should have found somebody else years ago. The boys need a real father in their life. I need a real man in my bed. Not some overgrown frat boy. What woman would want you? I’m sure you can get women to fuck you, but no woman will ever want to keep you.” Then she finally looked him in the eyes. “Just go. Just leave. I mean now. Move!”

He didn’t have anything more to say to her anyway.

He didn’t take anything besides what he grabbed earlier for the beach. He kept all of his tools and camping gear in his truck, and as it turned out, being the hobo that he was, he didn’t own much else of any great value.

He had nothing more to say to her, but he still fumed inside.  

He had broken his whole world in half. There was a checklist of people to disappoint, and he was going down the list one by one. 

At some point, he needed to stop by the Inn and give Sharon his notice. She had been a good employer to him, and that Inn had been a happy respite for the past few years, but he couldn’t give her the time she deserved. 

Sorry, not two weeks, I’m quitting now. 

How disappointing, she would say. I expected better from you. 

He got in his truck and he drove, but he had nowhere to go. He belonged nowhere. Maria said to come over, but Colette’s sting still burned inside him, and he wouldn’t go to Maria with that energy. He didn’t want to tarnish their gentle love with so much ugliness. Even if her comfort would make him feel better, even if she would reassure him that he wasn’t all those nasty things that Colette said. 

Colette’s complaints were not entirely wrong, and Maria would see that someday, too. 

He was welcome nowhere, so he drove and drove until he was too tired to drive anymore. He ended up parked next to Ingrid’s rancid camper. 

If nothing else, on some level, he and Ingrid got each other.

— from “my sweetheart #9: uprooted”

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #sims story #jordan #colette